


Ice and Steel

by Skull_Bearer



Series: Ivory, Blood and Ebony [2]
Category: Dragonlance - Margaret Weis & Tracy Hickman
Genre: Accidental Voyeurism, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Different First Meeting, Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Dalamar needs a hug, Embarrassment, First Relationship, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Intolerance, M/M, Mages being adorable, Soulforge, Unwelcome Flirtation, toxic families
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-15
Updated: 2018-11-24
Packaged: 2019-06-10 20:53:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 14
Words: 50,790
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15299820
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Skull_Bearer/pseuds/Skull_Bearer
Summary: Raistlin and Dalamar begin their relationship together in Solace, searching for a few years of quiet before the stormclouds of war finally break. Covers the events in Soulforge.





	1. Homes and Lovers

 

 The morning air was sharp and fresh, quickly blowing the mists that hung around the vallenwood branches in the early morning. Home. The last two weeks had seemed  like a lifetime and Raistlin felt as though he were looking on this familiar, comforting scene with new eyes. It was an odd feeling, but far from an unpleasant one.

"You are going home?" Dalamar managed to lean on the banister this time, but even that was tentative and the Dark elf was pointedly _not_ looking down.

Give it a month, he'd get used to it. Raistlin shifted over until their shoulders bumped together and was rewarded with a smile. "I should at least make sure the place hasn't burnt down in my absence, and Master Theobald will want me to check in and report on the mission's failure." _His_ mission, at least; as far as Raistlin was concerned, the fortnight had been a considerable success.

Dalamar must have seen his smug smile; he received a soft, brushing kiss to the corner of his eye. It sent a delightful shiver through him. A success. Total and absolute.

"What of you?" Raistlin covered Dalamar's hand, "Will you be ridding Otik of his legendary rat trouble?"

"I should at least investigate it," Dalamar said dryly. "Clearly such an epic battle must  be scouted out first."

"Do warn me when the war begins," Raistlin grinned. "I will need to give you my tokens and swear you to victory. Return with your shield or on it."

"I'll return with a necklace of rat-skulls for your honour." Dalamar smiled back, "And a robe of their pelts for you to wear."

They both laughed. "I will come and join you after seeing Theobald," Raistlin added, "Perhaps I might be able to help."

"I daresay I can prevail over the massed rodent forces alone, but the company would be welcome." Dalamar nodded. "Won't this Theobald complain?"

Raistlin shrugged. "What he doesn't know cannot hurt him; and as long as everyone thinks you did it, it should make no difference."

"Then gladly."

For a moment, neither of them moved, just looking at one another . They had spent more than a week together, first in a teasing game trying to see through each other's masks- then as rather more. It had been exhilarating; fierce highs of emotions and alien, sweet depths of tenderness as each came to recognise the  other for who he was - someone so very like, yet unlike, himself. _Like me,_ the warm, peaceable  murmur in his heart.

"I'll see you at  noon." Raistlin temporised, Dalamar looked away and nodded. He touched Raistlin's arm once, and straightened. Raistlin took a breath and forced himself away, half expecting this- this emotion between them to break at the sudden distance.

But nothing happened. Raistlin paused for a moment, and drew in air that seemed startlingly cold and refreshing. He glanced back, but the Dark elf was already heading down the walkway, and out of sight.

Gods, Raistlin shook his head, half amused and half exasperated with himself. What did he expect to happen? For Dalamar to just vanish into thin air? He might be- and by Lunitari it still felt strange to think it- _in love_ , but it was no excuse to lose his mind along with his heart. He knew perfectly well that come noonmeal, he would be meeting with his lover among the roots of the Inn's tree, and seeing him would be all the sweeter for the hours spent apart.

And it was pleasant to be alone, even for the short walk to his own vallenwood. A few minutes to settle more comfortably in his own mind, letting his thoughts fill the space around him, after sharing them for well over a week.

Probably Dalamar was glad for it too, some time with his own thoughts, without worrying that they could be read off his face. They would need to find some- balance between the two. Enough time apart so as not to feel suffocating, and the rest together to talk and study and make love and just- be.

Gods, why didn't people _mention_ this part? They made love sound so- cheap and easy, when it opened up to him so many deep and intriguing depths to explore and understand.

Raistlin was smiling when he turned and walked up to the cluster of homes he shared a tree with. A few people gave him odd looks, but no one said anything. Maybe they'd seen him last night, at the Inn with Dalamar- or maybe they just weren't used to him looking so happy.

Well, they might just have to get used to both scenarios. Raistlin laughed softly to himself, and found his front door. It was unlocked and he pulled it open.

"Who- Raist!"

Raistlin's smile vanished as though he'd been slapped. Caramon was sitting in their mother's old rocking chair, one leg propped on a stool. He tried to get up when Raistlin stepped in, then winced and slumped back. "You're back!"

"Obviously." Raistlin had no idea what to say. He looked at his brother helplessly as the silence stretched. He should say- something, but his mind had gone blank.

"Your leg should be better by now." It came out too sharp, barely made sense but at least it was something.

"Yeah." Caramon smiled ruefully, rubbed his leg. "Well, it was feeling better after a couple of days, so I thought I'd try and see if I could catch up with you-"

"You were supposed to keep it elevated and still for at least a week." Raistlin said icily, but was relieved the conversation was straying into safer waters. "Two days is barely enough time for the swelling to go down, let alone-"

"I know, I know." Caramon grumbled. "I must have heard it about twenty times from Weird Meggin. She said I tore my- something or other, and had better not try anything if I wanted to walk again."

"She is quite right." The tension faded a little from Raistlin's body, chastising Caramon was so _normal_ it was a relief. He walked over and got the kettle. "You are lucky you didn't fall a second time and break your neck."

"I was worried about you." Raistlin filled the kettle and set it over the fireplace, stoking up the embers. "Anything could have happened out there Raist, and I wasn't there to look after you."

The tension was back, knotting in his stomach. "Well, clearly nothing did." Raistlin said tartly. "I am perfectly well, as you can see." And any attempt to say more just- died on his lips. He looked down at the kettle, and added tea leaves in the desperate search for something to do.

"And did you get-" Caramon's face scrunched up, "What you were trying to get again? Something from the elves?"

"No." Raistlin started to unpack his belongings. Anything to keep from just- standing there, his spellbook went on the table, the pouches of food still holding some mushrooms and roots from yesterday. "The elves refused to trade."

"And nothing else happened?" There was no way for Caramon to know, of course. He was just being curious and anxious, worried about Raistlin.

"No." The lie felt strange on his lips, the room was too stuffy, airless. "I should go and see Master Theobald," the excuse was an almighty relief. "He will need to know of my journey's failure and I must return his scrolls."

"But you just made tea!" Caramon looked bewildered. Well, that made two of them. "Aren't you going to have some? You just got home."

The water was barely warm, but Raistlin poured himself a mug and drank it down. He liked tea, had been two weeks without it, but barely bothered to taste it. "There. Do you need me to pour you yours, brother? Or can you at least manage that without damaging your leg again?" The words came reckless, wild- _what was he saying_?

"Raist?" Caramon blinked. He didn't understand. How could he, Raistlin barely understood it himself. "Are you okay?" He got up, bracing himself on the back of the chair and almost bringing a shelf down by leaning on it.

"Careful!" Raistlin righted it. "Gods, how this house is still standing, I have no idea-"

"What's the matter Raist?" Caramon said softly. "What happened out there?"

The words, the little pet nickname, dragged on his nerves like a woodfile. "Nothing!" He snarled. "Nothing happened! I travelled for two weeks by myself and was _perfectly fine_. What did you think was about to happen? That all the goblins and bandits of the world were just waiting for you to leave me, and would come and carry me away?"

Caramon shrank back, "I was- just worried. That's all. You could have met anyone out there."

It was the perfect opening. Raistlin opened his mouth- and shut it again, the words dead on his lips. Gods, what was the matter with him? He needed fresh air. The walk to the school would clear his head. "Well, you had no reason to be. I- barely saw anyone out there. I am fine."

Before Caramon had time to say anymore, Raistlin turned on his heel and darted out of the door he had opened not five minutes before.

Raistlin stopped a few trees away, leaning back on the side of the vallenwood. _What had that been about_? Had he really been so spoilt by Dalamar's company over the last week that putting up with his brother's foolishness had become intolerable by comparison? And why hadn't he been able to say anything about the Dark elf?

Raistlin closed his eyes and forced himself to picture it in his mind. He could walk back in; look at Caramon and tell him- what? What did you _say_ to announce something like that? Caramon and Kitiara never had; had always let Raistlin find out by his own inference. Well, if he was going to wait for Caramon to work it out, he would be waiting for a very long time.

And would that- really be so bad? It wasn't any of Caramon's business whom he loved and shared a bed with. _He_ had certainly never shown any interest in Caramon's bedmates, so the least his brother could do was to extend him the same courtesy.

The words rang hollow even in his own mind. It wasn't the same. He knew _that_ perfectly well. Had been proud of how his relationship with Dalamar transcended his brother's pathetic, rutting conquests-

But Caramon wouldn't. Because Caramon wouldn't understand. Would never understand. Would relegate Raistlin's feelings to the same shallow lust of his own and- cheapen and tarnish them. Perhaps in a few days, when he and Dalamar were more comfortable living here with each other, he could stand it. Would be able to shrug off his brother's babbling inanities for what they were, but for now the emotions inside him were too precious, too priceless to have tainted, even for a moment.

A few days couldn't hurt.

 

* * *

 

'Master' Theobald's reaction had been all too predictable. He'd snatched the scroll cases back, snarled imprecations as to Raistlin's future as a mage if he couldn't do _even the simplest tasks_ effectively, and swished his cane threateningly for a few minutes before ordering Raistlin to start sorting parchment for this afternoon's classes.

After the disaster of talking to Caramon, it was almost a relief to just stand there and let the old man's grumbling wash over him, nothing to say but the odd _yes master_ or _no master_ , then the parchment was dumped in front of him and Raistlin didn't need to say anything at all, for once glad of the monotonous work. A few hours to calm down and settle back into himself.

"You're going already?" Theobald crossed his arms when Raistlin pushed the finished piles away and stood up.

"I have other errands to run," Raistlin headed for the door. "I only arrived late last night."

"And you didn't arrive alone." Theobald said darkly.

Raistlin paused, hand on the door, fought back a smile. "My companions are my own business."

"I hardly think your sponsor would approve of you consorting with-"

"I consort with whom I want." Raistlin sneered. "I'd have thought a _great mage_ such as yourself would have better things to do than pry into my personal affairs." It was too scathing to be anything but sarcastic, and Theobald's eyes narrowed.

"I will be forced to report this." Raistlin turned away so Theobald couldn't see him rolling his eyes. The schoolmaster threatened to report him for everything from a spell cast without his specific authorisation to shelving his books wrong. Even assuming Theobald wrote these reports in the first place, everyone in the Conclave would be ignoring them by now.

Leaving Theobald fuming behind him, he walked out and closed the door. Oddly, the schoolmaster's prying was more amusing than anything else. Amusing and- pleasing, as though he were wearing a new cloak or robe, and any remark on it made him absurdly happy and inclined to preen.

Covering his smile, Raistlin made his way back to the Inn of the Last Home, pausing by a vendor to buy lunch before picking his way past the immense tree roots to the small door tucked away within them. He knocked, and pushed it open.

He had only once been in the storeroom before. It was dark and cluttered; the only light filtering in from skylights above, the air heavy with the smell of hops. "Dalamar?"

There was a clatter from somewhere at the end of the room. "Back here."

Raistlin found him, dusty and disheveled, behind a pile of crates.. Dalamar had both hands pressed against the wall; murmuring something low and melodic and Raistlin felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand up at the soft prickle of magic. A simple spell of mending, closing up the holes the rats had gnawed into the wood, but it had its own grace, and Dalamar's voice gave it a new beauty, his elven accent heavy and casting the words of magic into new forms.

Raistlin had never seen magic used by any artist but himself. Theobald certainly didn't count and Antimodes seemed reluctant to use magic almost to the point of being ashamed of it. In Dalamar's hands the magic spun and danced, flowed and washed into the wood, leaving it new and untouched. Dalamar seemed to have forgotten he was there, eyes half closed, every part of him bent on this task, this small, beautiful creation.

Finally though, he was finished. The wood as neat and pristine as though newly cut. Dalamar pulled out a stick of charcoal and drew a quick ward to dissuade the rats from returning, then stood up, stretching stiffly. Raistlin stepped forward and- wasn't too sure what to do. Dalamar's eyes were bright and Raistlin could almost taste the vivid joy of the magic still whispering in the air between them.

Then he knew what to do, and stepped close. Put his hands on Dalamar's shoulders and kissed him. He tasted warm, of salt and dust and the welcoming crackle of magic. Dalamar hummed happily and kissed back and- yes. After the disjointed uncertainty of this morning- _this_ was right. The world steadied under Raistlin's feet and he felt perfectly at home.

They broke apart, and Raistlin licked slightly swollen lips. "You will have to show me that spell."

Dalamar smiled, "I barely need to study it these days. There were few spells I was allowed to cast, back there." There was no tension in those words, _back there_ , but Raistlin knew what he meant. "You are welcome to study it." He put a hand on Raistlin's back, urging him around the crates and out of the storeroom.

Outside, they sat on one of the smaller roots and Raistlin handed Dalamar his share of lunch- a large potato charred on the outside and still steaming within and a twist of chicken steamed in a vallenwood leaf. Dalamar took them, then, with an expression that brooked no argument or protest, placed five copper pieces beside him. Raistlin met his gaze firmly, and took three. For a moment, they just looked at each other, then Dalamar nodded took the two coins back, and turned to his food.

It made for a warm and easeful silence between them, sitting together on a massive root and eating their hot meals. "The vendor has her stall in that tree there," Raistlin said between bites. "The chicken is excellent."

"Hardly any cat at all." Dalamar said sardonically, but smiled to show he was joking.

"I would like to see you catch a cat up here." Raistlin smiled back, "Chickens can't climb trees."

Dalamar looks up at the spreading branches, and had to nod, then tore hungrily into his piece of chicken. "Not stringy enough for cat," he agreed.

He didn't appear to be joking. Raistlin decided rather firmly to never set foot in Tarsis. The white winged ships could all go to the Abyss; Dalamar had entirely put him off the place. "If anyone was caught selling cat, Otik would probably go after them with a meat cleaver." Dalamar snorted, and dug out his waterskin, he drank, and offered it to Raistlin, who accepted it.

"How was your morning?" Having finished his meal, Dalamar didn't seem inclined to move, closing the space between them until they were resting side by side, leaning on each other.

Raistlin abandoned his half-finished potato and relaxed against him with a sigh. Gods, this felt _good_. "Much as I had expected, Theobald was irate, he set me on some menial task and I escaped when I could." He paused, not sure what to say about Caramon.

Dalamar was quiet, letting him find his words. A few people walked past, sending them very odd looks. Raistlin tried to ignore them, "I found it- difficult to speak to my brother." He said finally, the words felt stilted.

"About me?" Dalamar's voice was soft.

Raistlin nodded, suddenly feeling almost- guilty. He was happy to have Dalamar here, proud of what he had with the Dark elf- but still, when he had been there, in front of his brother; the words had refused to come. "Do not think I am ashamed." He managed. "It isn't that."

Dalamar nodded, and smiled. "I know." Then leant in. "Kiss me."

Raistlin blinked. "Now?" Not that he was complaining.

When Dalamar nodded, Raistlin leant in, and touched his lips to the Dark elf's. They opened under his, Dalamar's hands came up to cup the back of his head and his own found the elf's shoulders, ran through his long hair. A slow, sweet kiss; the touch of teeth pressing together, the brush of a rough tongue against his. Raistlin blinked when they pulled apart, a little dizzy and out of breath. Dalamar was still grinning, broad and happy, and ran a tongue over his teeth, eyes dilated. "That's how I know." His words a little unsteady.

Raistlin was vaguely aware quite a lot of people were staring now. He couldn't care less. "You proved your point very well," he agreed, and it was just so- easy out here. He had never given a fig for what anyone had thought before, so why was _Caramon's_ opinion suddenly so important?

"I do not know your brother, so I will leave him for you to deal with. If you do not wish to tell him for now," he shrugged, "that is your choice."

For all his nonchalance, Raistlin could see it _did_ bother Dalamar, just a little. "He will doubtless be unbearable, I would like a few days for us to- settle in, find our place here, before having him charge in and knock everything over."

The faint signs of tension faded, and Dalamar nodded, accepting the explanation. "Now," he reached into his pouch and drew out the little hand-made spellbook, "you mentioned wanting to help me."

He shifted over and laid the book between them, open to the spell of mending. Raistlin nodded, accepting the boundary. He leant over and studied the spell carefully. It was very simple, and he wished he had his spellbook with him now to copy it. He didn't touch Dalamar's spellbook, didn't try and turn the pages, and felt the world settle a little more around them, grow warm. When he'd finished and looked up, Dalamar was smiling. A small quirk of a smile; barely there, but open and sweet.

He sat back, and Dalamar tucked his spellbook away. "Will you come and help? The battle is a dire one, I admit, but with your help-"

Raistlin kissed him to shut him up, and they walked back into the storeroom. Dalamar dragged away a stack of boxes and indicated the next section of wall, Raistlin closed his eyes, letting the spell of mending fill his mind. The symbols danced there, like the afterimages of a fire, bright and graceful in Dalamar's flowing, slanted hand. The magic ran through his body, sweet flame, pooled in his hands.

" _Bentuk itu balakan."_ He tasted the words tentatively; let them fill his mouth and overrun, the magic pouring out of him, into the wood.

He opened his eyes, the wall was better than it had been, but under his critical eye, Raistlin could see he hadn't quite cast it correctly. Dalamar's spell had left the wood untouched and clean, whereas Raistlin's had caused it to buckle in places where the magic had not quite run steady. Once, it would have meant days of work to discover what he was doing wrong and correct whatever small slip he hadn't even been aware of.

Now though...

Dalamar smiled; the same smile Raistlin was sure he had worn when watching the Dark elf cast earlier. The joy of sharing his most precious and wonderful art with someone who loved and treasured it as much as he did.  There was nothing to say, and Raistlin sat close and watched as Dalamar touched his own fingers to the wall and cast the spell himself. He mouthed the words at the same time and caught the tiny inflection on the third word he had not quite pronounced correctly.

When Raistlin tried the spell again, on a crack the rats had been using to get to the hops, the grain of the wood melted and resealed so perfectly there was no sign it had ever been damaged at all.

 


	2. Night and Moons

** Ice and Steel **

Chapter two: Night and the Moons

 

By the time the sun began to set, casting red shadows through the skylights, Raistlin was tired and trembling a little from the exertion of casting. A minor spell, but casting it so often had drained him and left him strangely exhilarated, and so light he wondered if he really was floating just off the ground.

Dalamar took his hand in his, grounding him. They walked together up the walkways and Raistlin sat on the edge of the railing for a moment while Dalamar haggled over the price of two pies for dinner. He closed his eyes and relished the wild, lost feeling of the magic. He had given so much of himself and still it thrummed within him, beating through his veins and heart as though alive in his blood. A cool breeze brushed through his hair and Raistlin let his head fall back, half-certain that even if he fell, the magic would catch him, buoy him up with a thought.

"Nuitari, that's terrifying." Raistlin opened his eyes. Dalamar was watching him, shaking his head.

"Join me." Raistlin grinned.

"Not on the magic." Dalamar took his hand again, as though worried Raistlin would go flying off without him, and pulled him close.

Raistlin let himself go, tasting the sweet transgression of being the fearless one, the daredevil. Dalamar might be a Dark elf, might have seen things Raistlin could barely imagine and lived a harder life than he _wanted_ to imagine, but he backed away from the drop below, and it was Raistlin who was unafraid.

"Here," Dalamar pushed the second pie into Raistlin's hands. It smelled of mint and lake trout.

He saw the fading sunlight glint off something in Dalamar's hand as the Dark elf moved to drop it in his pocket. "What is that?"

Dalamar pulled it out, a vial of oil. Dalamar's smile was broad, wicked. Raistlin wasn't sure what he intended with the oil, but he wagered it wouldn't be for a massage. Although it probably would involve them taking their clothes off.

He took a bite of pie, momentarily uncertain. He would be expected at home. Caramon was already confused by Raistlin's strange behaviour, and if he spent another night away-

The thought of his bed, in the little study under the eaves, seemed very cold and unwelcoming in his mind. Dusty and cold and distant, and Dalamar was right here, warm and inviting and holding out the promise of new and delicious pleasures tonight.

Well, Caramon couldn't walk yet, so wouldn't be coming out to hunt him down. If Raistlin came back late, he might be asleep, and they would be spared another awkward conversation. Caramon usually slept late, so even if Raistlin spent the night with Dalamar, if he was up early he could be out and off to work and bypass his brother entirely-

Raistlin was uneasily aware he was being a complete coward.

Then again, he'd dealt with his brother for nearly twenty years. Maybe he was allowed to be craven once in a while.

The world seemed determined to be perverse in rewarding him for his cowardice. The sunset was beautiful through the vallenwood leaves, the pie was warm and delicious, and Dalamar agreed to make the climb up to the top of the walkway above the Inn. It left Raistlin panting and breathless, but it was worth it.

This high up, the new leaves were still thin and sparse, and they could see across the tops of the forest. Crystalmir lake was alive with fire from the setting sun, which was perfectly balanced on the tip of Prayers Eye Peak. The sky shone purple and scarlet and flickered with pink-chased clouds. Raistlin glanced at Dalamar quickly, wondering if this was- too much. Too ridiculous. To lay the whole of Solace at Dalamar's feet in tribute.

But Dalamar was smiling, eyes closed and face turned up to feel the wind. The shimmering red of the sun played over his face, rested in his dark hair. He took a deep breath and seemed to- settle somehow, in the world. It felt like some form of magic, but something other than the kind he knew. Raistlin sat down on the walkway and tried to catch his breath. It was good. All of this was good. Whatever happened, he would not be sorry for any of it.

The sun slipped away. Solinari was just clearing the mountains, a silver knife-blade rippling in the water of the lake. Lunitari was behind them, already high enough to cast the world in a faint blood-light. Raistlin looked at Dalamar, "Where is it?"

Dalamar pointed almost straight up. Raistlin craned his head back. He could imagine how some people still maintained there were only two moons. Unless you knew just where to look, and remembered where every star in the night sky was supposed to go, it was easy to believe there was nothing there. But Raistlin thought he could make out where Nuitari must be, from the hollow it made within the emerging stars. He felt a strange shiver run through him, the hair standing up on the back of his neck as though the moon was looking back.

Maybe it was. Dalamar couldn't stop smiling when they got up at last and made their way down to the inn, and something of the Nuitari’s unseen light was caught in his eyes, dancing like lightning after a storm. When they reached the door, Dalamar paused, and pulled him into a tight hug, warm and tight and breathless.

 _Thank you_. Raistlin didn't know if it was spoken or his imagination or if Dalamar had just thought it and Raistlin had heard it anyway. It was gone in the moment, and Dalamar let go, straightened his robes. His smile was hungry again, that softening tilt to it gone. Raistlin didn't mind, he loved them both. He felt his heartbeat pick up, eager and hot within his chest.

This time, hardly anyone bothered to look at them. Raistlin thought he saw Kitiara in a darkened alcove by the kitchen, but if she saw them, she wasn't in the mood for a repeat of last night.

Otik smiled at them, but Dalamar didn't let him get a word in. "The storeroom will be done in a few weeks; I will take two steel pieces tomorrow, and another two when the work is done. I'll let you know my fees for the roof."

The innkeeper blinked and nodded, and Raistlin covered his smile. Neither of them had the chance to say anything, because Dalamar had him by the wrist, pulling Raistlin out of the common room and up the stairs.

 

* * *

 

 

Dalamar wasn’t sure which one of them moved first, but they were two steps from his little room when suddenly Raistlin was there, warm and close and eager.

It felt- almost like drowning. After so long in desolation, this glut of beauty was almost too much for him to comprehend. All he could do was to surrender to it and let it engulf him. The dance of the endless leaves outside, the creak and murmur of the trees, the light of the moons and the beautiful young mage in his arms.

Raistlin found the handle to his room, and they stumbled in. The space was so small Raistlin almost immediately hit the bed and fell backwards, gripping Dalamar and pulling them both over together.

The window had been left half-open, letting in the cool evening air. The scent of warming life, of woodsmoke and the rose petals clinging to Raistlin’s robes. Dalamar found a sweet place, the tender skin between jaw and throat and bit down gently. Raistlin gasped something incoherent, moved against him ravenously, legs opening to pull him in, a speechless, wordless _want_.

He didn’t even know what he wanted. Dalamar smiled against the raw flesh. Somehow, everyone in Solace had been completely blind and had left this delicious creature untouched. For him. Dalamar licked the bite mark he had left- let Raistlin explain _that_ to his oblivious brother- nibbled again and bit and sucked until Raistlin whined and writhed under him and the mark rose wet and swollen under his teeth.

“You’re mine.” He spoke into the soft skin of Raistlin’s neck, making him shiver. “Now, let me devour you.”

Raistlin laughed, and started on his own robes. There was nothing seductive or teasing in it, just undoing two buttons and pulling everything over his head, leaving himself bare down to his underclothes. Somehow, the sheer delight and enthusiasm was sweeter than any deliberate temptation, the simple and open hunger for his touch.

Drowning. To let himself fall into the current and be washed away. Dalamar stripped off his own robes and underclothes, and threw them to the floor, pausing only to save the small vial and setting it on the bedside table.

“I’m sure you’ll tell me what that’ll be for.” Raistlin grinned at him lazily as he kicked off his own underclothes, fingers trailing over Dalamar’s shoulder.

“And I’m sure you’ll decipher it soon enough.” Dalamar caught his fingers, and sucked the tips into his mouth.

Raistlin shivered; eyes wide and liquid. Just a touch and he melted in Dalamar’s hands. He knew so little about pleasure and sex, but somehow it didn’t feel irritating. It was- comforting, in a way. What Raistlin didn’t know he couldn’t demand, and what he couldn’t demand Dalamar might not feel pressured to do. Safe.

“I’m going to hold you down,” he caught Raistlin’s wrists in his hands, his fingers wrapped around the slender bones, felt the rapid pulse quicken as he pinned Raistlin to the bed. “And I am going to fuck you.” He felt another shudder pass through Raistlin’s body. “I am going to open you up, and fuck you, and come inside you, and you are going to love the ride.”

Raistlin’s breathing picked up, short quick pants. One leg was wrapped around Dalamar’s waist, rocking slightly and shivering at the friction. It was everything Dalamar could do not to jump flip him over and take him, right there, raw and hungry and dear Nuitari he _wanted_ him so much he thought he might come through sheer desire alone. _Mine_.

“Turn over,” Dalamar panted.

“What do you need me to do?” Raistlin shivered as he rolled onto his stomach, giving Dalamar access to his delicate shoulders and the slight ridges of his backbone. His erection twitched as he ran fingers over the perfect ridges of his shoulderblades, and felt the skin warm and flush under his hands.

Dalamar bit gently on the back of his neck, dragged his teeth lightly down over his ribcage. He picked up the vial and drew out the cork. The oil smelled sweet as he coated his hand with it, reached down and slipped his fingers into Raistlin’s body. Raistlin hissed and murmured something senseless into the bedclothes, gasping when Dalamar bit the back of his neck again.

His body was tense under Dalamar’s, probably remembering that first night together. Dalamar had done what he at the time but there was no way to have made it anything but a rough ride. Now, however- “That’s what the oil is for,” He pressed his lips against Raistlin’s neck, and when he turned his head, leant forward for a slipping, messy kiss. “There will be no pain this time.” He shifted his hand crooked his fingers inside Raistlin and felt him shudder and groan, spreading his legs and arching his back. Gods, he was so hard it was almost painful-

Dalamar refused to hurry, despite his own arousal. He continued to press kisses over Raistlin’s back, the perfect cast of his shoulder, the coils of dark auburn hair washing over the delicate curve of his neck. He added a third finger and Raistlin twisted under his hands, demandingly aroused and desperate to move, driving back against his hand. “I-“ He gasped, “I- _oh Gods_ -“ Dalamar grinned, once again finding that delicious place inside him. “I- if you want to do- anything more- make it soon.“ Raistlin finished with a gasp, his body sweat-damp and shivering.

Dalamar wanted- Nuitari, he wanted _everything_. He wanted to fuck Raistlin and devour him and be devoured by him and kiss his lips and taste his blood and hold him forever. A huge, ravenous wave of desire that swamped everything and narrowed the world to this- just this. He pulled his fingers out, and shifted back, sitting on the bed, his hands on Raistlin’s hips.

Raistlin turned his head, eyes lust-fogged and narrowed, waiting to see what he would do next. Dalamar pulled him up until Raistlin was straddling him, one hand mapping over his chest, his stomach, brushing teasingly over Raistlin’s own cock, making him shiver. “You know what to do now?” Dalamar murmured.

“I think so,” Raistlin smiled, his eyes drifting closed, his head dropping back in ecstasy. As he had been on the walkway, when Dalamar had half expected him to fall. Too bright, too vividly alive. He shifted back against Dalamar and let him guide him down and-

Oh. Oh _yes_. Dear Nuitari. Pushing inside him slowly, feeling warm heat engulf him and pressing in deeper and feeling Raistlin pant and choke out something senseless with pleasure. Then he was inside him, as far as he could be and shivering with the need not to just surrender and come right now. He wrapped both arms around Raistlin and held him close and warm, biting at the lobe of his ear, his shoulder, the bite mark he had already left on his neck.

Raistlin had had quite enough of this, and seized Dalamar’s slick hand, and guided it pointedly downward. He was painfully aroused and shuddering, arching his back to encourage Dalamar to move. It was not the easiest position for it, but Dalamar leant against the backboard of the bed and was able to gain enough purchase to thrust, and Raistlin shifted and rocked back against him, and together they moved, close enough that there seemed- nothing between them. Just their own pleasure, their own need, their bodies moving as one in the driving hunt for release, surging like the tide. His hand tight on Raistlin’s cock and his own trapped inside the warm heat of Raistlin’s body, the weight of him heavy and welcome in his lap.

“Gods-“ It was barely a whisper, Raistlin’s head rested on his shoulder, his hair spilling out over Dalamar’s back, his neck bared for another sweet bite. Raistlin groaned at the touch of his teeth and Dalamar could taste the reverberations against his tongue. He was close; Dalamar felt the quickening pulse under his teeth, in his hand. And the nearer he came to orgasm, the tighter he clenched around Dalamar. Sweet pleasure, bordering on pain, the slowly tightening knot of his own release as he arched back and thrust harder and more wildly inside Raistlin. Close, so close-

Raistlin choked off a cry and came into Dalamar’s hand suddenly, his whole body taut as a strung bow. The sight of Raistlin lost in pleasure, the sensation of his body tight and delicious around him- it was too much. Dalamar groaned and came in turn, body spasming and shaking with his release.

Dalamar managed to curl up on the bed as he fell back, avoiding banging his head on the backboard. He drew Raistlin down with him, and hissed in mixed pleasure and discomfort as his cock slipped free. Raistlin was still shivering in the aftershocks of pleasure, stirring happily among the rucked up bedclothes, sighing, then stretching languidly.

Now _that_ , Dalamar could watch forever. Raistlin was so slender he could see the narrow muscles play under his skin, could admire his own handiwork in the quick bite marks patterning Raistlin’s neck and shoulders, and the raw, angry red of the one he had persevered with. Raistlin _might_ be able to cover that up with his robes, if he was truly desperate to hide from his brother, but it would be rather uncomfortable.

“That must hurt.” Dalamar purred, nuzzling the bite. “You’ll feel that all day.”

Raistlin found the bite with his fingertips and traced it tentatively, a smile playing on his lips. “Good.” He opened his eyes, licked his lips. “I’m looking forward to it.” He eyed Dalamar thoughtfully, clearly wondering where to place _his_ mark.

Dalamar lay down beside him, lifted his head and exposed his throat to give Raistlin free reign. He felt Raistlin’s finger trace over the tendons at his neck, brush over his collarbones, first one, then the other, part his hair, and finally he shivered as Raistlin’s warm lips touched his neck just below his ear.

He took his time, sucking first, the swirl of his tongue against the tendering skin. Then the touch of teeth, nowhere near hard enough to hurt, but close, pressed tight, kneading and worrying at the flesh. Dalamar was spent, and beginning to feel very tired after a day of casting and moving boxes, but he couldn’t help but press more closely against Raistlin, grinding slightly against him.

Finally Raistlin broke away, licking first his lips, then the bitemark. Dalamar reached up and touched it, faintly swollen, a little raw to the touch, but comforting. A silent, demanding _mine_. Both of them claimed for all to see. Dalamar crawled back up the bed, and nudged Raistlin aside so he could pull the blankets out and draw them up over the two of them.

Raistlin sighed happily, and curled up with his back to Dalamar’s chest. Head ducked down and knees pulled almost to his chest as though he was too used to being cold. Dalamar rolled over and threw an arm and a leg over him, and Raistlin relaxed a little.

Dalamar closed his own eyes, but didn’t give in to sleep at once. He relaxed into the bed, into the solid wood of the Inn and the impossible strength of the great tree that held it. It still felt strange, the silent trees, the creak of the houses within, but it was starting to feel familiar now. Comforting at least as far as it reminded him he was nowhere near Tarsis and, Nuitari willing, never would be again.

Raistlin murmured something sleepily, turned into Dalamar’s arms and nuzzled his chest. Dalamar smiled. Yes. That too. Yes.

He closed his eyes, and let the world slip away.

 

* * *

 

 

Raistlin woke early, the sky still dark, the moons setting. He sat up and carefully untangled himself from Dalamar’s arms. The Dark elf growled, leaning closer, but Raistlin pulled away. “I need to get home,” He whispered. “My brother-“

Dalamar groaned and rolled over, one arm thrown over his face. “I am beginning to truly hate your brother.”

Raistlin smiled, and kissed him. “I also need to change my clothes and go to Theobald’s. I have to work early today.”

“Hmm.” Dalamar sat up, and brushed his hair away from his face. “I cannot say I like him either. Will I see you for noon?”

“I’ll make sure of it.” Raistlin agreed, and tucked a stray strand of hair behind Dalamar’s pointed ear. “Though you’ll have the rats to yourself today.” Dalamar lifted his head in invitation, and Raistlin bent down to kiss him. “I need to check on my garden.”

“I’ll join you for the evening.” Dalamar yawned and stretched. “I’d like to see your plants.”

Raistlin straightened and found his robes, pulling them on. “I’ll be pleased to show them to you.” No one but Meggin had ever asked, and Raistlin felt a bright sense of pride for his little garden- Gods, thank you that Caramon hadn't been able to 'help' with the gardening these past few weeks. The last time he'd torn everything up and left only weeds. “I will meet you later.” A final kiss, and he left.

The walkways were still almost deserted, the sun wasn’t up yet and the sky only faintly grey to the east. Raistlin pulled his cloak around himself against the chill, and hurried back to his home.

He pulled off his boots before walking in, padding in silently in his stockinged feet, avoiding the creaking boards. Caramon was still asleep, the snores faintly reverberating through the house. Raistlin gave a tight smile, and started a fire in the fireplace for tea.

He stripped and washed in the rainwater bucket, and grimaced at the pile of filthy clothes Caramon had left out by the door. He would have to make sure they were sent down for washing. Reluctantly adding his robes to the pile, Raistlin rubbed his bare arms and went up to the little garret he used as a bedroom and study.

It was dusty and cold, the air stale. The bed he had left half a month ago was untouched, and when he pulled the bedclothes off to air it, the musty smell made him grimace. It was hardly a welcome homecoming. He shivered, it felt- strange here. After everything that had happened in the past few weeks, this part of his life felt- frozen, trapped in the form it had been before he had left.

For a moment, Raistlin had the sudden, insane certainty that it had all been a dream. Some bizarre fantasy he had indulged it and that had no place in reality-

His fingers went to his neck, pressed on the tender bite mark Dalamar had left there, and the world snapped back around him. Gods, he was being ridiculous. This was just his room, which Caramon hadn’t bothered to clean or air. He pulled the window open and the warm spring air seemed to brighten the space already. Raistlin shook his head, beat his bedclothes out of the window and cleared out the grate.

He found a clean set of robes in his clothing chest, and pulled them on. He tucked his spellbook in his belt and checked on his component flasks. The rose petals he had left behind had gone moldy, Raistlin emptied the jar out of the window too. He’d need to get more this afternoon.

He heard Caramon moving around downstairs, and breathed a curse under his breath. “Raist?”

There was no point in pretending he wasn’t here. Raistlin sighed, “Yes?”

He heard his brother clumsily climbing up to his room. He sat on the bed, and pulled his robes up over the lovebite on his neck. He didn’t feel like awkward questions this morning. He flicked through his spellbook, and picked out some ink and quills, ostensibly for later, but mostly to have something for his hands to do.

“Where did you go?” Caramon stuck his head in and smiled; he was keeping most of the weight off his leg, but it did seem better- more's the pity. Raistlin managed a tight smile in return.

“I told you.” Flicking through his spellbook. “I needed to go to Master Theobald’s and inform him. He had me stay to finish some work at the school.”

“You didn’t come home last night.” Caramon frowned, puzzled. “Did you stay at the school?”

“I- had to work late.” The lie was clumsy and stumbling on his tongue. “You were asleep when I came home.” That at least was true.

“Oh, okay.” Caramon’s smile wavered a little- he _knew_ something was wrong, must have guessed Raistlin was lying- but it was easier to just go along with it. “Whatever you say, Raist.”

It was a relief- and it was aggravating at the same time. Like walking through mud, at once yielding and suffocating. Raistlin got up stiffly and packed his things away. “I will need to go to the school this morning, and will most likely be back late.”

Caramon’s smile faded, “Are you going to be home for dinner?”

The thought of sitting at the dining table, listening to Caramon’s inane chatter, was intolerable. “I doubt it.” He said tartly. “I am very busy at the moment, my brother; I may not come back tonight.”

“Maybe I could come with you!” Caramon brightened, “I’ll meet you at the school this evening, we could go and get food-“

“With that leg?” Raistlin looked down at Caramon’s injury.

“Oh yeah…” Caramon looked away. “It’s better though, I’m sure I could walk to your school-“

“Just like you were sure you could come after me two weeks ago?” Raistlin stood. “Go back downstairs and rest, Caramon. Until you’re healed, one of us needs to be working- unless you think steel pieces grow like vallenwood leaves?”

Caramon nodded, a little downcast as he made his way back down to the dining room. Raistlin followed him, and pulled his boots back on. The water was boiling over the stove, and he poured them both mugs of tea, and dug out some bread and cheese for breakfast.

The tea was good, fresh and hot, and the food was decent- someone must have dropped off food while he was gone- but Caramon was unable to let the atmosphere settle comfortably, trying to break the peaceful silence with- some local idiocies. “Mrs Sedge’s been coming around more, she brought the bread. Everyone’s been really good-“

“Hmm.” Raistlin looked pointedly out of the window, sipping his tea, but Caramon did not get the message.

“Kitiara came back, I told her Tanis wasn’t home yet, but she didn’t pay any attention. I haven’t seen her so often though.“

Raistlin sighed, and finished his bread, tucked an apple in his belt pouch for later.

“Did you meet her? I don’t know if she’s left town yet.”

“Our sister has not left Solace.” Raistlin resigned himself to getting dragged into the conversation. “She has been staying at the Inn, not doubt to escape your endless blathering.”

Caramon’s mouth snapped shut. “Sorry.” He mumbled. “It’s just- been a bit lonely here.”

“I’d have thought your friends would have been coming around daily.” Raistlin finished his tea, started heading to the door.

“Yeah well, it’s not been the same.” Caramon looked at him, something pleading in his eyes. “I’m glad you’re home.”

Raistlin felt a stab of guilt, then shoved it away impatiently. The only reason Caramon wasn’t spending his nights in other people’s beds was because of his leg, _he’d_ dealt with being left alone at home enough times, Caramon could learn. “Have a good day, Caramon.” He said firmly, and walked out.

 


	3. Secrets and Truth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Secrets can come back and bite you...

 

 It felt like- balancing. Like the last few weeks in Silvanesti; that brief, fragile time between when he had realised the truth about his heart- and when he had been discovered. He had known the end was coming, could feel it in his bones, but had treasured those fearful, tentative weeks all the more.

It had been a fortnight since he had come to Solace, and he wasn’t sure what he was waiting to have happen. The guards had left him alone, and whatever Raistlin was telling his brother had worked. No one seemed to look twice at him anymore, his presence a daylong wonder and already old news.

Dalamar looked up from the garden. After the last few days, it had become quite familiar. It was small, but Raistlin made sure it was meticulously kept; with even a few elven plants. They were different from those he had known, but still- familiar. “Where did you get this?” Dalamar stroked a few strands of feathergrass- red rather than the Silvanesti green.

“Tanis Half-Elven,” Raistlin looked up from where he had been plucking rose petals. A few bundles of lemongrass were tied up in his lap, and Dalamar smiled, knowing his young lover's robes would smell sweet tonight. "He brings scraps back from Qualinesti at times, he gives them to me."

Qualinesti. He had skirted the edge of the wood but hadn't dared come within bowshot of the treeline. Solinari's moon to the Silvanesti sun. Dalamar wondered where that put Solace, and dug his hands through the rich, dark earth, pulling out a few rogue dandelions to join the pile marked for tea. On Krynn, he decided; brushing clots from his hands, on this Earth; solid and real under him.

"May I?" He indicated the feathergrass. Red or green, it should work correctly.

Raistlin looked at the grass, and at him, eyes narrowed as he tried to work it out. "A spell of- air?" He tested, thoughtfully, "Of wind?"

Dalamar nodded and smiled, tasting the sweet, delighted pleasure of their shared joy. "Very close," He nodded, "A blast of air, to push things away." Or dust floors, he didn't say.

He got a vivid smile in return. "I don't know that one." Raistlin let the words hang, pregnant and waiting for a question he didn't need to ask.

"I'll show you this evening, if you show me what you need those for." He indicated the rose petals. They smelled sweet, heady even from here. "A spell of seduction?"

Raistlin laughed, "A spell of sleep, for when you don't want to walk to the lake for sand. You are welcome to see it, if you don't have it already."

Dalamar shook his head. "Enchantment spells are for Red Robes," His smile sharpened, "Quite forbidden."

He saw something flicker behind Raistlin's eyes. He didn't understand. He was wondering what about the place could possibly leave Dalamar with such grief when he had painted such an unrelentingly miserable picture. Endless work, little magic and then most of that forbidden. Raistlin wouldn't have waited to be exiled. Raistlin would have left the moment he could walk.

They shared much, but this, Dalamar knew, could not be shared. There were no words for the cruel spear of loss in his heart, the wrenching emptiness which had once been full. The world seemed grey before the dancing hues of his memories, now colourless and washed out.

Then he closed his eyes, forced his mind to clear and turned his back to his task- finding the last of the weeds speckling Raistlin's garden. The repetitive work grounded him, soothed the sharp edges of his mind and settled it into a calm routine. The lowering sun on his back, the whisper of the leaves, the cool earth under his hands.

Raistlin came and worked beside him, his long fingers brushing through the fronds of a strange fern-like plant Dalamar did not know. "And that one?" Dalamar murmured, and pressed his face into the back of Raistlin's robes. He smelled lovely.

"Tansy, not for spellcasting," He felt the words reverberate through Raistlin's back. "Otik uses it for his ale, I use it to keep away insects, and I sell some to Meggin for when-" He paused a moment, trimmed a few dead leaves and tucked them away, "When she has patients who do not want any more children."

It might have been shocking once. Children had been rare enough among his people, it took so much work to conceive that the idea of ending a pregnancy would have been incomprehensible. But Silvanesti sometimes felt as if it might have been a dream, and after having walked past newborns dead in gutters and discarded on rubbish heaps- this seemed the height of civility. He nodded.

"Or you can crush it and rub it on the skin," Raistlin continued, "it keeps off insects, and makes for a brisk business in tick season."

Dalamar nodded and smiled against the back of Raistlin's neck, pressing a kiss to the skin and the stray curls of hair. He was tired. He would finish Otik's alehouse by the end of the week, but the innkeeper was already asking him to take a look at his roof, and people were starting to sound him out for more menial jobs now they had seen that his spellwork did not explode or pull anyone to the abyss; and- more importantly- that it actually worked well. He had been hauling sacks of hops all day to charm out weevils and his body ached.

"Help me get these and the rosemary in," Raistlin shifted aside, dislodging Dalamar. He stole a quick kiss anyway. "Otik will stand us a meal in exchange."

Dalamar smiled, and helped Raistlin gather and tie up the bunches of herbs. Raistlin watched him for a few moments. Then, when the rosemary was tied together in neat knots, pulled Dalamar's hand up and smelled it, drawing a finger into his mouth. He shivered deliciously; Nuitari, he would never have enough of Raistlin, never sate the devouring desire in his heart.

He entertained the idea of having sex here- it was getting dark, and Raistlin was growing delectably comfortable with being more public- but Raistlin pulled away, encouraging him to get up. "I don't want to crush anything."

A pity. That sounded rather tempting in and of itself. The little bundles of herbs Raistlin was carrying smelled of mint and spices- certainly no hardship to lick off-

"Tansy is poisonous." Raistlin smiled.

Oh well, another day. He let Raistlin take his hand and lead him away, first to wash their hands, then back up to the Inn, to a warm supper and the promise of much more.

The little nook in the corner of the dining room seemed to have become theirs. Raistlin traded his bundles of herbs for wine for both of them, and a supper to share. There was a slight tilt to his shoulders as he came back to their table, a quirk to his lips when he slid into the booth that made Dalamar smile in return. Raistlin was enjoying this.

"You like showing off." He took Raistlin's hand and rubbed a thumb over the palm. Seeing Raistlin flush a little, he continued. "You like showing _me_ off."

Raistlin shrugged, eyes glittering happily, "And if I do? You are beautiful; I'm allowed to be pleased with myself."

Dalamar laughed as the barmaid came with the wine. "And I'm not?" He brushed his knuckles against Raistlin's cheek. He was gratified to see Raistlin flush and lean into the caress. "Anyone who'd see me would say I'm very fortunate."

"Any elf, perhaps," Raistlin said dryly. He pressed a kiss to the back of Dalamar's hand.

"True," Dalamar agreed. Humans here seemed to have a very strange view of beauty; prizing coarse, harsh features and oversized body parts before overall harmony, "If word of this got back to elven lands- that there were such beauties going unclaimed- we might have a problem." Seeing Raistlin hide his smile behind his wineglass Dalamar pushed further, treading tentatively upon raw ground, "It is just as well I cannot come back to spread the word."

The joke landed oddly, left a strange taste in his mouth- but it didn't hurt. Dalamar felt a small flare of hope; once, even the thought of his exile had been unbearable. Now, he had managed this small, fragile jest at its expense. Raistlin watched him carefully for a moment. "Just as well," he agreed, "While it might be enjoyable to be fought over, I imagine it would get old very quickly."

"Not to mention, I've had quite enough of looking over my shoulder-" _in Tarsis_ , he should have finished, but that send a sharp, ragged pain through his heart, and he stopped. No, not even as a joke. Maybe one day, but not now. He took a long drink of his wine to cover his stumble, let the burn of the alcohol sear away those last two words.

Like some injury he couldn't see. Like knowing a bone was broken somewhere in his body, and having to probe himself tentatively to find where it hurt. Like the world was strewn with broken glass, and every so often, he stepped on a shard.

Luckily, the food arrived then, and saved him and Raistlin from trying to find a way to turn the conversation to safer waters. The Inn served fish today, lake trout wrapped in clay and baked with onions, garlic and tomatoes, served up with a salad of mushrooms and the ever-present fried potatoes. They picked through it, finishing most of the plate between them.

Dalamar looked at the leftovers- a third of the fish, a little drift of potatoes- and risked it. He reached inside himself and pressed against the cold, huddled fear still locked inside him. The desperate, blind need to know there was food. Feeling the hollow of a lost tooth with his tongue, touching a limb long gone, pressing fingers to his chest and finding nothing but a hole blown straight through him.

But it was quiescent tonight. For once, he was able to accept what was in front of him. Enough food. No fear of starving. He wouldn't embarrass himself tonight in front of Raistlin by stealing scraps like a gully dwarf.

He managed a smile and it didn't take much to push past the memories and back to the now. This sweet, beautiful now. He stood up and Raistlin followed, one hand sliding up to his shoulder, stroking over the back of his neck. Dalamar lowered his head and kissed him, not from desire or want this time but just the need to- touch, to ground himself in young man in front of him, wrap himself up in him and know he was _here, now_.

"Your brother is wondering where you are," Otik called to them as they walked out of the dining area. "You shouldn't make him worry like that."

Raistlin shrugged, "Send someone to tell him I am fine, if you want, but we will not want to be disturbed."

"He's going to guess." Dalamar said as they climbed the stairs up to their room.

"If he hasn't by now, it has nothing to do with me." Raistlin paused a moment, focusing on catching his breath after the steep stairs, then continued. "Besides, I have been considering telling him."

Ah. That set something warm in Dalamar's stomach, something that had nothing to do with the good meal. Raistlin's brother was his problem, but it had felt- uncomfortable, knowing he was being kept a secret like some paid pet.

"It makes no sense for you to be spending half your earnings on this room," Raistlin continued, "When you could be sharing mine."

"And paying you." Dalamar had to say. His voice came a little too hard, a little too sharp; the memories of Tarsis too close to the surface.

Whatever Raistlin saw in his face, heard in the undercurrents of his voice- he kept them to himself. Dalamar saw a flicker of uncertainty in his eyes, then gone. "Well, that can go into the food budget; I can't promise meals as good as here, but we can try." He stretched; the sleeves of his white robes fell back, baring lovely cream-pale skin.

The desire was back, warm and familiar and pushing back the edge of uncertainty. So many storms had left him unwilling to leave the safe harbor he had found here... but he would hardly be going far, and the thought of being still closer to Raistlin, winding their lives even more tightly together- Nuitari, but that felt good, that felt _right_.

"I can cook for myself, if need be," He turned Raistlin around when they reached the door to his room, and pulled down his robes to bare a warm, rounded shoulder. "I make a lovely dessert with honey." He bent down and bit the soft skin above Raistlin's collarbone, felt Raistlin go rigid against him in response.

"You- will have to show me that." A little breathless, Raistlin's hands went to his neck and started unfastening his robes. "What sort of dessert?"

"Just honey," Dalamar smiled against Raistlin's shoulder. "And you." Raistlin trembled against him in laughter, and Dalamar found the door handle, opening it and pushing the two of them inside.

"Well, this isn't honey, but I'm sure we can find a use for it." Raistlin drew out a small jar from his belt and set it on the bedside table. Aloe. Perfect.

They stripped off their robes and boots. Their belts and components went on the table for later, for when their lovemaking was finished and they would read over their spellbooks for the morrow- perhaps sharing their spells and writing them down, trying not to get ink on the sheets-

And although Dalamar's body was alive with _want_ , electric with desire... somehow, that image- the two of them, entwined in bed and laughing over the magic- was more enticing than any sex, and the promise of it made their kisses all the sweeter, their touches all the more delicious.

Raistlin, smiling, wrapped his arms around Dalamar and drew him down onto the bed. Dalamar went happily, closing his eyes as he was pulled into an intoxicating tangle of warm limbs. He pressed kisses to Raistlin’s shoulder, his forearm, his neck, his cheek- every part he could reach. One hand lost in his hair, the other trapped under his body.

Raistlin rolled him over and kissed Dalamar firmly on the lips. He lay on top of him, legs between Dalamar’s and even the slightest shifting of his body brushed tantalizingly against Dalamar’s cock. Another kiss, burning and sweet, then Raistlin sat back.

Dalamar opened his eyes and blinked lazily at him. Raistlin’s eyes were uncertain, his bee-stung lips half open. He was waiting for Dalamar to take control, to decide what they would do tonight. Dalamar smiled, and slid his hands behind his head. No, not tonight, this time, he’d leave it to Raistlin to decide what they would do.

With anyone else, this would have felt like madness. To lay himself open and vulnerable to someone else’s desires, to be willing to accept whatever they might want-

But this was Raistlin. And perhaps Raistlin might decide he wanted to try being inside Dalamar for a change- but even that fear felt pale and pathetic, Raistlin had no hold over him, was not as strong as him, if he didn’t want it, Raistlin had no way of forcing him. And… Dalamar wasn’t sure that he _didn’t_ want it. His emotions were confused, both aroused and uncertain.

Raistlin licked his lips, and perhaps he didn’t quite realise the trust Dalamar was giving him, but his eyes were bright with hunger and eager for the host of possibilities laid out for him. They roved over Dalamar’s body, intent on mapping out the contours and details, his fingers brushing over the tender places he remembered from their lovemaking.

Dalamar shivered in delight, his head dropping back. Raistlin took his time. Slow, careful touches, and kisses, pressed teasingly in spots that made Dalamar shiver in pleasure. Like with the magic, Dalamar thought, eyes drifting closed. So thorough, so deliberate, studying him like he was a spell Raistlin wanted to memorise, his hands dancing through the motions as though casting Dalamar’s pleasure.

Finally, Raistlin sat up, and shifted backwards until Dalamar groaned, his cock caught against Raistlin’s body, rubbing slick and aching between his legs. He opened his eyes, drinking in the delectable sight of Raistlin straddling him, his thin body highlighted in the candlelight, faintly damp with sweat and achingly aroused. Dalamar smiled, and reached down to wrap his hand around Raistlin’s cock, stroking him in return.

“I want-“ Raistlin panted, breathless. “I want to- ride you.” He smiled, and it was dazzling. Fierce and so blindingly happy it stole Dalamar’s breath away. “If I can- like this.”

Yes. Yes oh yes. Dalamar grinned, and fumbled for the little bottle of ointment on the nightstand. But Raistlin leant forward and took it, “I can do it.” He said coyly, as though he wasn’t sitting on Dalamar’s cock, coating his fingers in lubricant.

“Yes,” Dalamar managed, almost painfully hard now.

Watching Raistlin shift forwards and try and work his fingers inside himself was- incredible. The perfect show, and all for him. Raistlin shivered, his face and chest flushed, self-conscious but still enjoying the attention. Dalamar guided his hand, showing him the best angle to press inside, and Raistlin’s breath came heavier, faster as he got two fingers inside himself, then three.

“I think I can-“ Raistlin swallowed, withdrew his fingers, “I should be able to-“ and oh Nuitari he couldn’t even say it, it was just so _delicious_.

Dalamar grinned, and caught his hard, aching cock, bringing it up at the right angle as Raistlin pushed back against him. A moment of pressure, then Raistlin opened up against him. He pushed in, warm and tight and sweet as raw honey. Dalamar groaned, the sound dragged up from deep inside him.

Raistlin gasped, breathing coming shallowly as he tried to catch his breath. He slid down, took Dalamar inside him until he was sitting in Dalamar’s lap, shivering and almost overwhelmed as Dalamar started to thrust up against him. Raistlin braced himself on the bed to keep from being thrown forwards, pressing back against Dalamar’s cock, knuckles knotting white into the bedclothes as he hung on for the ride.

Dalamar got a hand free and shifted Raistlin over, just a little, and was gratified when Raistlin choked off a cry of pleasure as Dalamar pressed against the sweet place inside him. Dalamar took Raistlin’s cock in his hand, and closed his eyes, shutting out everything but this. The sensation of slick, hungry skin, the glorious bliss of Raistlin’s body clenched tight around him, the panting gasps of their breathing, and the slow, coiling tension of his orgasm, tight between his legs and coming closer with every heartbeat-

There was some sort of commotion outside. Dalamar pushed it out of his mind and focused on this, only this- he didn’t want any distraction from this delight, let the whole Inn burn down around them if it wanted to. There was nothing but this, their pleasure, their release coming so close-

The door banged open and Dalamar didn’t even open his eyes. Somewhere at the back of his mind, some part that wasn’t intoxicated with lust, hoped this idiot would kindly remove himself and leave promptly.

Raistlin hadn’t even noticed, rocking backwards and groaning, his body arching. He was so close, cock painfully hard in Dalamar’s hand, clenching tight around Dalamar and drawing him to the edge. Close- so close-

Dalamar bucked up in blind pleasure as his release roared through him, white and blazing and furious and wiping his mind free of any thought but this engulfing pleasure. He grabbed Raistlin’s hips as he shuddered through his orgasm, and his other hand clenched tight on Raistlin’s own cock. Raistlin cried out, his own pleasure catching him at last, and coming hot and slick in Dalamar’s hand.

Dalamar shifted, letting his cock slip free from Raistlin’s body. Raistlin slumped down, rolling off Dalamar to curl up against him on the bed. Dalamar didn’t open his eyes, nuzzling Raistlin’s hair, conscious of nothing but the reverberating pleasure running through them, the warm comfort of Raistlin’s body against his, the thrumming beat of his heart, only now starting to slow.

“Raist?” A stunned voice made him open his eyes.

The idiot at the door was still there. He wasn’t someone Dalamar had seen before- tall and heavyset, with brown hair and a blank, oafish expression. Dalamar smirked at him, ran his hand possessively through Raistlin’s hair. _Mine,_ he thought smugly. This one is mine. Run home and cry your defeat, because you won’t be having him.

Raistlin didn’t seem to have noticed, throwing a leg over Dalamar’s and settling himself in for a nap. Dalamar let the smirk slide into a grin, and ran his fingers through Raistlin’s long, dark copper hair. He flicked his free hand at the stunned moron at the door. _Go to the Abyss_. Not that he cared they had been watched, but Raistlin was still a little self-conscious and didn’t need to know just yet. In time, hopefully, they would be able to look back on this moment and have a good laugh.

“What are you doing?” The man choked, looking completely lost. Raistlin shifted at the noise, and opened his eyes.

He paled, eyes widening in shock. Dalamar glanced between them and _oh_. So this was the missing brother. Honestly, Dalamar wasn’t sure he could have guessed. The stunning beauty his siblings enjoyed had clearly skipped past this one- body gross and ungainly with bulging muscles and a massive neck and shoulders that made him look like a bull. After Raistlin and Kitiara, Dalamar was rather disappointed at this- lackluster specimen. He smirked smugly at the brother’s outraged expression and ran a hand possessively over Raistlin’s back.

The man opened his mouth, seemed about to say something, but Raistlin found his voice first. “Have you ever considered knocking, _dear_ brother?” It was spat with utter scorn, so cold Dalamar half expected frost to form on the window.

The brother’s mouth snapped shut, his face flushed so red he seemed about to keel over from apoplexy. Turning, he fled back down the stairs, leaving the door open.

“Oh Gods.” Raistlin flopped on his back when his brother had disappeared, covering his face with his hands. Dalamar slid out of bed long enough to kick the door closed, and rolled back up against Raistlin. “Oh by the Abyss.”

Although he was trying to hide it, Raistlin couldn’t hide his smile. He was still flushed with embarrassment, but his shoulders were shaking with repressed laughter. “How much of that did he see?”

“Most of it.” Dalamar admitted. Raistlin dropped his hands and stared pleadingly at the ceiling. _Make this not be happening._ “You shouldn’t be embarrassed, you were glorious.” Dalamar kissed his chest.

“You have no siblings.” Raistlin grumbled. “That was mortifying.” Despite his efforts, however, he couldn’t keep the smile off his lips, and finally he just closed his eyes and let the laughter escape in helpless chuckles.

“It was very funny.” Dalamar agreed. “The look on his face-“

“I am trying not to think about it." Raistlin shook his head. "Although I have no one but myself to blame. I should have told him." He rubbed the bridge of his nose and sighed.

"Well, he most certainly knows now," Dalamar said dryly, and sat up, reaching for their spellbooks. "Now, you wanted to see one of my spells." He rolled over on his stomach, and propped his makeshift spellbook on the pillow.

"I should go down and speak to him," Raistlin glanced at the door, but Dalamar dropped his spellbook on the bed and pushed Raistlin back down when he tried to rise.

"Why? He knows now, and anything else can wait until morning."

"I think I owe him an explanation." But Raistlin didn't try and get up, reaching down to pull the bedclothes over them against the chill of the night.

"Unless he is even more foolish than he looks, I think what he saw was fairly self-explanatory." Raistlin groaned at the reminder. "He knows where you are, what you are doing, and that you are safe. Stay."

Raistlin turned onto his front and propped himself up on his elbows, opening his spellbooks. Dalamar leant over curiously at the spell he'd revealed. Enchanted sleep, the effects and incantation noted carefully down in Raistlin's neat, sharp edged hand. _Ast tasarak sinuralan kyrnawi._

Mouthing the words carefully to himself, Dalamar pushed his own spellbook towards Raistlin. The spell was an old one, torn from the pages of his spellbook and hidden during his exile. He had drawn a loose thread from his cloak and used it to stitch the stray pages back together and after the ordeal of the last two years the pages were stained and his writing- so long ago now, it seemed- was faded and blurred.

Raistlin didn't seem to notice, shifting closer to study the words- _Belit imbas lingkaran_. His eyes bright and hungry as though Dalamar had laid a precious treasure before him. He frowned a little at the description- it was in Elven after all, but seemed to be able to parse it out without help. He sat up, but only reached over Dalamar's back to retrieve a small ink bottle and quill from a sheath on his belt, and started noting the spell down.

Dalamar held the ink bottle to keep it from spilling, waiting for Raistlin to finish. Raistlin wrote with swift, impatient strokes, as though his mind were working faster than his hand could keep up and, although Dalamar's own hand twitched with impatience for his own turn with the quill, he- didn't want this to end either. The scratch of quill on parchment, Raistlin's eyes narrowed in concentration, the taste of magic between them.

Raistlin finished, checked the page over carefully and blew on it to help it dry before opening his spellbook to the sleep spell, and handing the quill to Dalamar.

Let it be this. Let this be forever. Dalamar savored the warm, quiet joy, the hungry blaze at a new spell. The world could end beyond their little room, and he would be entirely content.

 


	4. Hearth and Home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Raistlin talks to Caramon, and it goes badly. Dalamar meets Sturm, and it goes worse. Raistlin and Dalamar spend the evening together, and that it just this side of perfect.

Raistlin took a deep breath, adjusted his robes again. There was something lodged, heavy and dreading, in his stomach and he couldn't shift it. Dalamar was still smiling when they came down the steps to the Inn common room, and it was more than a little irritating.

"There you are," Otik looked sleepy and frazzled as he cleaned the bar. "Caramon tried to stay here all night- kept telling me you'd be down in a moment. It took me 'til after midnight to get him to go home." He walked to the door and opened it. "Go and talk to him."

Dalamar was trying not to laugh now. "I am so glad we're offering such quality entertainment," Raistlin snapped.

"We don't need a repeat performance," Otik sighed.

" _We_ said we weren't to be disturbed." Raistlin crossed his arms, trying to fight down the damned flush spreading up his neck at the memory. Dear sweet Magic, he had _not_ needed that. "If Caramon made a scene, what did you expect?"

"He drank our best brandy, and was sick all over the floor." Otik huffed, "You should be glad I'm not charging you extra, now shoo."

Raistlin gave up trying to control the heat burning his cheeks, and stalked out, scowling. Dalamar was no help, now breaking down into soft chuckles behind him. At least _someone_ was enjoying the drama, he thought sourly. "Do you want me to see if you can stay with us, or not?"

To his credit, Dalamar did try and control himself, although his shoulders still shook with silent amusement. "Of course. But will your brother agree, after the show we put on last night?"

"He should," Raistlin scowled, "I bring in half the income and he eats more than his share of the food budget. I will meet you at the Inn, we can buy dinner and you will come home with me." He made his voice as commanding as he could manage. It had worked before, convincing Dalamar he could come to Solace, almost like casting a spell on the world, announcing what would be. It worked on Dalamar now, the Dark elf smiling at his bravado even as hope danced in his eyes. Raistlin kissed him firmly to seal the deal, and turned to leave.

"I believe you will not have to wait long to speak to him," Dalamar said softly, "Isn't that your brother there?"

It was, looking pale and hobbling over the walkway towards the Inn. Oh well, Raistlin took a deep breath. This was going to be mortifying, so better to get it out of the way quickly. "I will see you this evening." Firmly, he was _not_ having Dalamar stay around and enjoy the coming discussion.

Still smiling, Dalamar gave him a final kiss farewell, and headed down the steps from the Inn. Raistlin straightened, and started walking to meet Caramon. No need to do this in the middle of Solace where everyone could hear.

Besides, what was there to discuss? Raistlin had a lover now and yes, he might consider an apology for not telling Caramon ahead of time. With the benefit of hindsight that now seemed extremely stupid. He'd tell Caramon now, explain Dalamar's situation and- Gods, Caramon was so generous and eager to see Raistlin happy, he'd probably suggest Dalamar move in without Raistlin needing to bring it up. Dalamar would have to put up with Caramon's endless chatter and determination to make friends with everyone but-

Then Raistlin saw Caramon's face and it dawned on him that friendship would be the last thing Dalamar needed to worry about from his brother.

Caramon was pale and didn't look as though he'd slept. He was staring at Raistlin in bewildered horror, as though- a flash of anger- he had caught Raistlin sacrificing babies last night, or something equally heinous _._ Raistlin scowled, crossing his arms defensively as his brother came up to him, all charitable thoughts of apologising evaporating at once.

His mouth opened, closed, then he choked out; "What were you _doing_?"

"I'd have thought it was obvious what we were doing." Raistlin snapped. "I should ask what _you_ were doing. I told Otik we weren't to be disturbed."

"Who was that?" Caramon was getting louder. Raistlin flinched and looked around, people were starting to stare.

"His name is Dalamar." Raistlin said coldly. "He is a mage like myself. We met on the road and spent a great deal of time together, I-" his throat dried, but Gods damn it, he was going to get the words out- "I am very fond of him."

Caramon seemed to have forgotten how to talk, just gaping at Raistlin. "I should have told you," Raistlin continued, "But I was afraid you would react like this and make a scene."

"I- you thought-" Caramon spluttered. "You were having _sex_ with him!"

Well, that settled that. Raistlin grimaced. All of Solace was now watching, so there was no choice but to brazen it out. "Contrary to what you might believe, Caramon, that is not the sole preserve of yourself and our sister. I am perfectly capable of enjoying an evening with someone."

"You never did before!"

That was a full blown shout, but Raistlin no longer cared, embarrassment giving way to anger. "Well, then perhaps I have higher standards than chasing after anyone who would have me!" He snarled, and Caramon backed up a step. "Perhaps I want something more than a - meaningless encounter with someone whose name I cannot recall in the morning! Perhaps I place more value on myself than that! More value on those whom I-" he broke off, a moment before the last word could spring forth. He didn't want to say it here. He didn't want to _sully_ it in this argument.

But it was too late, Caramon had gone even paler. "Raist-"

"Whom I love." Raistlin finished finally, his voice softening. "As I love him." He closed his eyes. This was not how he wanted to do this. He didn't want to do this at all. Not with Caramon.

"You- you barely know him!" Caramon lurched forwards and Raistlin backed up a step. "Raist-"

"Do you know anyone at all?" Raistlin lashed back, furious now. "Gods, all these girls you tell me about, claiming you're in love with them all- have you ever exchanged more than half a dozen words with them? I know how I feel, and I know better than to cheapen that word as you have!"

"But he's-" Caramon looked around, as though trying to gain support from the two dozen or so people now watching the spectacle with interest. "He's a Dark elf! A black robe! You know what people say-"

"I do not." Raistlin hissed. "I only know what I am hearing from you, and am not going to prize your judgment over mine on someone you have _not even_ _met_." Gods, if it was only protectiveness, if he could look at Caramon's broad, idiot face and only see concern in it... Raistlin wasn't sure _what_ was in Caramon's face, but it was dark, and angry, and jealous. Something he had only ever seen in a mirror. This- he'd known this could go badly, but he hadn't imagined it could go _this_ badly.

"But-" Caramon was scrabbling around, trying to find a new argument in the face of Raistlin's fury. "It's not _normal_ Raist- people are going to talk. Going to say you're only doing that because you can't get a girl-"

"I do not give a bent copper what people think! Unless it's passed you by, most people already believe I summon demons in my spare time, so I hardly think finding out I also have _sex_ is going to change anyone's opinion!"

That finally shut Caramon up. In fact, it shut everyone up. The small crowd watching them suddenly realised they had very important business elsewhere and began to shuffle off. Raistlin caught his breath, not sure if he wanted to laugh, scream, or have the ground come up and swallow him. He straightened and tried to salvage whatever dignity he had left. "Regardless," he continued, at a more normal volume, "Dalamar and I will be coming home this evening, I hardly think it is worth him spending his steel at the Inn when he could be staying with me."

That broke Caramon out of his stunned stupor. "What! No, Raist-"

"He will be staying." Raistlin snarled. "Unless you believe you can run the house by yourself. I am sure I can find a new place to live if you are so determined-"

"No!" Caramon shook his head. "But- what are you- I don't understand!" he almost wailed.

Raistlin took a deep breath. "There is nothing to understand. I met someone I care for, and wish to keep him close. If-" he gritted his teeth- "you come to feel the same way about someone yourself, I am sure we can decide on some arrangement." It would probably result in Raistlin moving out anyway, but he didn't say that.

Caramon had nothing to say to that. He sagged helplessly, staring at Raistlin. "Kit-" He tried feebly.

Raistlin was ready for the weak sally, and struck back with the deathblow. "Is perfectly aware of matters between Dalamar and myself, and will be staying with _her_ lover when he returns. Now," looking at Caramon's defeated expression, "If you have quite finished airing our business for everyone to hear, I need to get to work. We will see you this evening."

 

* * *

 

 

Dalamar was smiling when he left Raistlin, leaving him to his humiliation. But under the amusement, Raistlin’s words still stayed with him, _you will come home with me_. So certain, his young lover. So very determined to make those words truth.

Well, he had convinced Dalamar, at least. After having met the gormless hulk of the brother, Dalamar was quite sure Raistlin would impose his will on him, and Dalamar would- stay. Stay with them, in their home.

It felt- tremblingly permanent; almost frightening, after years spent with no home at all. To tempt him into vulnerability, to encourage him to lower his guard, all such dangers to his bruised and wounded soul.

But it was _Raistlin_ , whom Dalamar could trust as much as he could trust anyone, and although he doubted the brother would be particularly kindly towards him, he seemed foolish enough not to worry about.

Dalamar smiled, and made his way to the door of the storeroom. A few more days here, and he would be done, take his pay, and see what he could bargain from Otik for fixing the roof. He had enough offers from other potential employers; he might be able to raise his prices. A steel piece per day, perhaps. Riches unheard of, Dalamar smiled sardonically, but that would be more money than he’d ever made before.

Nuitari- Dalamar paused, in the shadows of the storeroom. It barely felt _real_. The disconnect between his life in Tarsis and this place was so huge it hardly felt as though they could exist in the same world. He pulled at his robes absently; perhaps he might even be able to afford a new set, after a few months of this- _if_ this lasted a few months, he corrected harshly. He couldn’t start pretending this would be permanent, he could not-

Then, as though to confirm his fears, there was a hard banging on the door.

Dalamar started and turned as the door opened, sending the morning light slanting across the dusty floor for a moment, before it was cut out by a long shadow. Dalamar blinked, trying to pick out features in the man silhouetted in the doorway, for a moment he wondered if it was the brother, then the man stepped closer and Dalamar corrected the impression.

Not as tall as Caramon, but still able to look Dalamar in the eye. Dark haired and dark eyed, with long trailing moustaches that looked utterly revolting- as though the man had grown out his nose-hairs until they hung over his face. His arms were crossed, his eyes narrowed at Dalamar in unparalleled dislike.

“I had heard the rumors, but I did not believe until Caramon confirmed it.” The man’s accent was- strange, but there was a lilt to it that Dalamar had heard in Raistlin’s. “So it is true that one such as you has come to Solace.”

“And what am I?” Dalamar threw back lazily, with an ease he did not feel. Something cold had clenched in his stomach. He had been waiting for this moment to come since he had first set foot in Solace and now, it was here. His heart beat faster, his hands clenched on his robes.

“A Dark elf.” It was spat. “A foul black robed mage, come here to threaten the people of this good town.”

Dalamar swallowed down the fear, the crouched terror that this man had come with a gang to throw him out- or worse. He forced himself to see through the building emotion and look at what was really there. The man was alone, and wore no armor, no insignia to denote him as a town guard. He had a sword, but the guards had all held bows and spears. There was something familiar about the disgusting moustaches, although Dalamar could not quite pick it free. “And who might you be?” Dalamar sneered. “A _boy_ trying to gain his way onto the town guard?”

He flinched, good. He wasn’t part of the guard. Just some local idiot trying to impress his friends- or a fanatic determined to make a point. The latter suddenly seemed very likely when he drew his sword. “I am Sturm Brightblade, and I am no boy, _Dark elf_.”

Maybe it was the flare of light on the blade, or the fixed look in the man’s eyes, but Dalamar’s mind finally coughed up the association. The moustaches, the florid speech, the fanatical determination. Dalamar forced himself to ignore the threat, even as he dropped his hands to his components pouches, and he laughed in the man’s face. “I know you!” He mocked, “You are a Solamnic knight! Where is your armor, play-knight? Did the Night of the Eye come without me noticing?”

The man’s face flushed, and he took a threatening step forward. Dalamar held his ground. He had few spells, and those were either useless cleaning cantrips, or the few scraps he had managed to salvage from the dark spellbooks- and he doubted he would be allowed to stay if he killed this idiot.

His hand reached into a pouch by instinct, and touched the soft velvet of rose petals. “Do not mock me!” Brightblade snarled, “You, who come here with your dark powers, to ensnare the innocent and-“

“And charm rats out of alehouses.” Dalamar finished, withdrawing his closed hand. “Unless you believe I am about to summon demons with Otik’s best hops.”

Brightblade hesitated, and Dalamar moved quickly. The petals caught the light in red and black and the knightling looked away from Dalamar for a moment, following their dance.

 _Pathetic._ “ _Ast tasarak sinuralan kyrnawi.”_ Dalamar hissed. The magic sparked, tasted warm and hungry between his teeth, like a bright fire had been lit within him at the words.

The spell flared between his fingers- then stuttered. He had not quite pronounced it right, but it didn’t matter. Brightblade wavered, dropped his sword and Dalamar took the chance. He darted in and grabbed the blade. It was heavy and cumbersome, and Dalamar didn’t hesitate but threw it into a vat of fermenting ale. Brightblade blinked, shook the spell off, and stared in horror at where his sword had vanished under a wave of brown froth. “What- my sword!”

Dalamar straightened, and walked over to the idiot. He paled, but stood his ground, trying to draw himself up intimidatingly- a fruitless endeavor, since they were the same height. Dalamar didn’t bother with his components, and just grabbed the knightling by the collar.

“Listen to me, you- revolting specimen _.”_ The moustaches were no more pleasant up close than at a distance. “I live here. This is my home now. If you threaten me or my own again, I will place your blade somewhere far less pleasant.” Brightblade tried to pull away, but Dalamar didn’t let go. “Now, take your steel, and crawl away before I throw you in there too.” He shoved him away.

Brightblade stumbled, but stayed upright. He pulled his collar straight and glowered at Dalamar. “Your own,” He spat. “I suppose that much is true too. Did you claim Raistlin’s soul, if he ever had one?”

“I wouldn’t speak of souls if I were you, play-knight.” Dalamar smirked- because apparently just having Raistlin mentioned to him, even by this idiot, was enough to raise his spirits. “Now run, before I tear yours out.”

He didn’t run, but then Dalamar wouldn't have expected such a pompous fool to do so. He retrieved his sword from the vat and walked out, leaving a trail of raw ale across the floor and slamming the door behind him. Dalamar took a deep breath, and sat down on his haunches to calm down; his heart was still racing, his body shivering as the adrenaline and magic drained from him. That- could have gone far worse. He had been here more than two weeks, and this was the worst that had happened.

In a way, it was a relief. He had been waiting for someone to challenge him, and for it to be this- absurd creature- was comforting. He doubted anyone would listen to him- and by Nuitari, if Brightblade believed he was a Solamnic Knight, he might well be the village idiot. He drew in a breath, and stood up and walked over to the door, opening slightly to look out. There was no one outside, and he closed it firmly, turning his mind back to his work. He would finish here, and meet Raistlin outside the Inn for the evening.

_you will come home with me_

All the same, Dalamar shoved a large bag of hops in front of the door, in case Brightblade came back.

 

* * *

 

Caramon was still out when Raistlin arrived home. Out and hopefully not planning to be back for a while. Raistlin sighed and shut the door, looking around at the house. It was, he admitted to himself, rather small and shabby. The walls had never been painted and were rough and unplaned, the furniture worn and chipped from decades of use. Raistlin opened a few windows to air the place out. Caramon had been either unwilling or unable to clean over the past few weeks, and the dust blew up and hung in the late afternoon sunlight.

There wasn't time to do much, but Raistlin cleared out the leftover food Caramon had left scattered around, and did his best to neaten the place a little. It wasn't much, but then it would never be much, and looking around at the house that had been his home his entire life, Raistlin felt- exposed. Vulnerable. As though in bringing Dalamar here, he would be exposing a part of himself that even the Dark elf had not yet seen.

He wondered what Dalamar had been used to, in Silvanesti, and half-wished Tanis Half-Elven were here to ask. It certainly didn't compare to the Inn. Well, what _did_ he want? Raistlin snapped at himself impatiently, to present Dalamar with a palace? He was being an idiot-

But sneering at himself didn't make the feelings go away, and just made him uncomfortable and irritated. Raistlin shoved the scathing voice aside; so what if he felt like this? He had never had anyone he wanted to bring home before, he was _allowed_ to feel nervous. It was a perfectly rational reaction.

The internal criticism died to a grumble, and Raistlin gave the house one last glance, resigned that this was the best it could put forward, and straightened his robes as well as he could- only just realising they were grey with dust and damp along the hem where he'd cleaned the floor.

His other set were still being cleaned. Raistlin growled and beat them as best as he could, only managing to smear the wet dust. Dalamar was better off with black. Raistlin sighed, and left.

Dalamar was waiting for him outside the Inn, he looked up as Raistlin approached and smiled a little uncertainly. He had tried to clean himself up too, his hair pulled back in a rough braid, his battered robes brushed down. Raistlin met his eyes and smiled. Even if he was being an idiot, at least he wasn't alone. Dalamar reached up and touched fingers very lightly to Raistlin's shoulder. "I purchased us dinner," he said, a little stiltedly, "Should I have bought some for your brother too?"

"Definitely not," Raistlin took his arm, "You'd lose all your coins trying to feed him, and besides, he hardly deserves it."

"He was unhappy then?" Dalamar's voice was soft, and Raistlin tightened his grip on his arm, _none of that_.

"He is an idiot." Raistlin said flatly. "But that is his problem. We are going home."

Dalamar was a little more confident on the walkways now, but still hesitated as they made their way on the suspended stairs that led up to the house. Raistlin looked back and grinned as Dalamar braced himself on the railing and determinedly did not look down. He met Raistlin's eyes and smiled self-deprecatingly. "Caramon isn't home." Raistlin put in, "No one will be watching."

"Out with his friends?" Dalamar started up the steps, "I met one of them today."

Friends? Flint and Tanis were still away, that left-

Raistlin grimaced. "Sturm."

"Yes," Dalamar smiled, "Is he likely to be a problem?"

"No one listens to him, if that's what is concerning you." Raistlin led him around the walkway at the top of the tree. "Most think he's half mad, spouting off about being a Solamnic knight. The guards aren't likely to pay him much attention."

Dalamar nodded, "He came in and tried to threaten me into leaving-" Raistlin felt something cold drop down his spine, his shoulders stiffening- "I threw his sword into a vat of ale and suggested doing the same to him, and he slunk away with his tail between his legs."

"Good," Raistlin gritted his teeth. Gods, if the Solamnic idiot ruined this for him, Raistlin would _drown_ him in that vat of ale. "If he bothers you again-"

"I'm sure we can handle it together." Raistlin paused at his door, and Dalamar nuzzled the back of his neck as he found the key. "He will find it harder to face both of us than one."

The words unknotted the tension in Raistlin's back and melted it into a warm bloom of pleasure in his stomach. He unlocked the door and opened it, stepping in and holding it open. Dalamar paused on the threshold a moment, looking inside. Raistlin felt his heart pick up, thrumming just under his throat as Dalamar’s grey eyes scanned over the room, the bare furniture, the empty fireplace, the dust still coating everything.

He didn’t know what he was afraid of, what he feared Dalamar might say, but Dalamar met his eyes and smiled. “Do you think I have ever been in a position to scoff?”

Raistlin felt his cheeks warm, but he smiled back. “I have heard stories of elven lands,” He closed the door, and lit a lamp against the darkening sky. “I didn’t know what you were used to.”

“A small cottage of one room,” Dalamar said sardonically, “and a much smaller garden than yours. But it had roses too, red roses-“

He broke off, eyes suddenly growing distant, lost. His mouth twitched; a slight trembling of pain. Raistlin hesitated, uncertain what to do- wherever Dalamar had gone, it wasn’t a place to spend any time in. He reached out instinctively, and caught Dalamar’s arm. The Dark elf blinked, and looked at Raistlin as though he had forgotten who he was. Raistlin didn’t let go, stepped close. Dalamar closed his eyes, seemed as though he might buckle, then shook himself. He drew in a taut breath, and looked away, a thin smile twisting his mouth.

“And where do you sleep?” He was trying to lower his voice to that husky murmur that warmed Raistlin’s blood and lit bright hunger in his stomach- but it sounded all wrong and instead, his insides just felt tangled and sick.

Raistlin didn’t let go; and led Dalamar up to his little room. It was small, but brighter than the downstairs room, a desk pressed up under the window, the bed just big enough for the two of them. Dalamar had to duck his head down to avoid the low ceiling, but his smile was more natural now, the sharp edges of him slowly lowering again, and when Raistlin sat on the bed, he settled beside him and closed his eyes- now more tired than anything else.

Raistlin took his hand, and Dalamar didn’t pull away. “It has been a long day,” He said finally, a low whisper.

“We can eat,” Raistlin said softly, “You can sleep, if you want. I still have work to do.” He waved at the desk, the bowls and herbs he’d left out earlier.

They ate quietly. Dalamar removed his boots and lay down, curling up on the bed. “And what will they come wailing to you for, this time?”

“Rose-fever, most often.” Raistlin settled in the chair, and began to grind up the herbs. “It’s a season for eyebright and milk-thistle. I usually distill them with spirits of wine-“ He paused, and glanced at Dalamar in case the elf found the details as boring as everyone else did, but Dalamar’s eyes were still half lidded, curious despite his weariness.

“Eyebright,” he yawned and stretched, “Euphrasia, we call it. I knew it was used for spells of seeing and divination.”

“Yes well, I believe elves don’t suffer from rose-fever.” Raistlin smiled, “But there is overlap, yes. Willowbark to numb pain, and I believe it is part of a spell of strength. I would not recommend trying to eat spiderwebs though, or bat guano.”

Dalamar smiled. “Rose petals for tea to help you sleep, I can see. What about liquorish, for speed?”

“Useful for joints,” Raistlin countered.

“And honey, for speaking spells?”

“I believe that was because the mage who created those had a sweet tooth.”

Dalamar chuckled, and Raistlin smiled, tipping the powdered flowers into a small vial for later. The room had grown warm from the pair of them, and Raistlin felt the quiet like a comforting weight inside him, soothing and sweet. He closed his eyes for a moment, took a deep breath.

This was good.

 


	5. Brothers and Gifts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dalamar. Caramon. Miranda.

** Ice and Steel **

Chapter five: Brothers and Gifts

 

Dalamar did not have to rise until later that morning, and the Dark elf stretched hedonistically as Raistlin sighed and untangled himself. The morning was chill and unwelcoming after the warmth of their shared bed, and Dalamar rolled over and draped an arm lazily over his shoulder, traced a line of kisses up Raistlin’s neck.

A delicious temptation, but Raistlin was a match for it. He kissed Dalamar back firmly, tasted sleep and warmth, then stood up and found his robes. Dalamar sighed and dropped back on the bed with a groan, looking up at him through half-lidded eyes.

“You’re working at the Inn today?” Raistlin asked.

“Hmm,” Dalamar nodded, “Some traveler brought in fleas. And then one of the farms wants me to ward their plots against vermin.” He yawned, “I should be back late.”

“You work yourself hard, these days.” Raistlin kept his voice soft, against the doubt clenched in his stomach. Dalamar looked at him, a knowing glint in his eyes. Surely he could see it; there was no point in being coy. “Saving for a journey?” He got the words out.

“And leave this bed?” Dalamar smiled, “No, it’s a surprise.”

“For me?”

“For you.”

It sent a strange kick to Raistlin’s stomach. Like, fear only- sweet, pleasurable. It was like when he had waited for Caramon to meet him in the spring when they were children, seeing his twin for the first time in months- at least until the novelty wore off and he started to long desperately for some space to himself. The warming tremble of anticipation. “It’s not my Day of Life Gift.”

“You don’t give gifts for Spring Blossom?” Dalamar sat up, brushed his hair back out of his face.

“No,” Raistlin smiled and pulled his robes on, “Just for the day we were born- and Yuletide, of course.”

“And when were you born?” Dalamar reached out, stroked his back. “You will be- twenty?”

“The seventeenth day after Summer Home, and yes.” He glanced at Dalamar, “And when is yours?”

Dalamar frowned for a moment, “Do you know, I’m not sure? I never needed to know before. Summer Run, I think, probably early. Let’s say- Nuitari’s first High Sanction for Summer Run.”

“You’ll have to tell me when that is.” Raistlin remarked, but his mind was racing. Three months, at most. If Dalamar had already been thinking about a gift, Raistlin had better start coming up with ideas. His mind was blank; he had never had to consider getting anyone anything.

“I will,” Dalamar smiled, as though again, he knew what Raistlin was thinking. Where had he gotten his idea from? Raistlin doubted Dalamar had any more experience in gift giving than he did.

Raistlin sighed, kissed Dalamar and left him to the enviable comforts of their bed, and went downstairs.

And tried not to groan.

Caramon seemed to be trying to make himself scarce recently, for which Raistlin was grateful. He could only take so many betrayed looks over the kitchen table. His brother tended to be out early and back late, leaving Raistlin and Dalamar to quiet mornings and sweet, blissful evenings without any fear of interruption. Today, however, seemed to be an exception.

Raistlin didn’t meet Caramon’s eyes, and made a beeline for the kettle. He managed to get his mug, and poured himself some tea without his brother saying anything; hoped he could at least get out without having to endure-

“I’ll be staying out late, Raist.”

That.

“Good.” Raistlin said flatly. Maybe he could look at appropriating a few of Theobald’s spellbooks; there might be a few spells Dalamar would like that could serve as a gift-

“There’s a dance this evening, it’s Spring Festival.”

“Good.”

– but that would mean keeping the spells from Dalamar for three months which felt- uncomfortable. Certainly Dalamar would not be pleased. They could look at doing something about that together, but magic would not make a good Life Gift. Raistlin sighed, his ideas evaporating, so much for that.

“Are you coming?” Caramon said hopefully.

“I hate dancing.” He sipped his tea. “And Dalamar is busy.”

“He doesn’t need to come.” Caramon grumbled. Raistlin sent him a quelling look, and he subsided. “Anyway, Miranda is coming.”

It took Raistlin a moment. Miranda? Oh yes, the pretty girl half of Solace was mooning over. Raistlin had once half dreamed himself in love with her too, but really, he’d just wanted the accolade of being the one chosen above everyone else. Foolishness. He was glad to be out of this- absurd competition. Let Caramon and his friends prance around like stags in rut, they could keep that pastime along with swordplay and rounddancing. Raistlin had found his place; within the Magic, and beside Dalamar. It was- astonishingly good.

“Yeah,” Caramon leaned forwards, “She’s wonderful, isn’t she? I’ve never seen anyone so beautiful.”

“If you say so.” It was like watching everyone running a completely pointless race and being glad he’d had the sense to stay out of it. He really needed to think of something nice for Dalamar.

“She has friends,” Caramon glanced at Raistlin, “From her shop, they’re pretty too. They’ll be at the dance tonight too.”

Oh for- “No.” Raistlin said flatly. The one thing more irritating than Caramon being obvious was Caramon trying to be cunning.

“Come on, Raist,” Caramon pleaded. “You’ve never been with a girl, it’s lots of fun. I’m sure I could find you a-“

“ _No._ ” Raistlin slammed down his mug, and Caramon shut up. “Go and- have fun, if that is what you consider fun. I need to get to work.”

“Well, maybe I will.” Caramon growled. “Maybe I’ll go over there now and see her! How about that?”

“Then go.” Raistlin found his boots and pulled them on. “Run over to your tailor’s shop and-“ He paused.

“I will!” Caramon got up and stamped out.

“Or maybe I will.” Raistlin murmured as the door slammed closed. Now that- _that_ was an excellent idea. Dalamar’s robes were old and worn out- and the Dark elf hated the cold after Tarsis. He could check the measurements of Dalamar's robes now, and go over to the shop later. Miranda was an excellent tailor, and if Caramon was bedding her perhaps Raistlin could get a discount. He checked his savings jar. Not as much as he’d hoped, but if Miranda would accept half now and half in three months- that would be enough.

Thinking about it, imagining how happy Dalamar would be at the sight of his new robes, the quiet relief in his eyes when he realised he wouldn’t have to worry about the cold any more- it was the same delicious anticipation as when Dalamar had mentioned his own secret gift, and just as sweet.

 

* * *

 

 

The tailor’s shop was further down than most in Solace, tucked down in the first fork of the great vallenwood. Raistlin supposed that, having come from the plains, the family had not quite accustomed themselves to the heights yet.

Not that the shop suffered from its unconventional position. The latest fabrics hung from the branches, advertising the business in bright colours as the dyes dried. They were just as vivid in the late afternoon light as Raistlin walked across the walkway to the front door. His eyes passed over the brilliant sky blues, emerald greens, rested for a moment on the fierce red- then moved to a swatch of black.

It was soft to the touch, not dyed, but new woven from black lambswool, stretched out after washing. It was beautiful, fine enough not to be itchy, and Raistlin didn’t want to know how much it would cost to have even one set of robes made of it. Raistlin sighed and turned away. One day, he smiled. One day, when they were famous mages with more steel and treasure than they knew what to do with.

For now, he would see what they could afford.

The shop was growing dark, despite the wide windows. One of the seamstresses was lighting the lamps as the day faded. The others were sitting at the back of the shop, finishing today’s order, and Miranda was at the front desk, checking over the books.

Raistlin looked at her for a moment, curious despite himself. She was beautiful, that much had not changed, but without the desperate urge to attract her attention and prove himself in front of Caramon- that was all there was. The long curls of her red-gold hair was as stunning as the sunset over Crystalmir, her dusky skin warm and pleasant as vallenwood leaves in autumn. Distant and irrelevant. Satisfied that he had been quite correct as to his feelings, he walked over.

His boots creaked over the boards, and Miranda looked up, surprised. A soft chorus of chuckles rose from the back of the shop. Raistlin glanced at them, frowning, and saw a few covering their faces with handkerchiefs to hide smiles.

Miranda was smiling too, a sweet and enticing one. “Oh, I’m sorry.” She put the books down and tilted her head coquettishly. “I didn’t see you come in!”

Raistlin blinked, feeling unsettled at being the sudden focus of so much attention- he hadn’t thought any of these people even knew he existed. “Are you closed?” He took a step back, “I would like to put in an order.”

“No, no, we’re open.” Miranda walked forwards, her head on one side so her hair hung in a long wave. Raistlin momentarily wondered what sort of garment one could weave from such thread. “What can I do for you?” She was a little _too_ close, her eyes bright green and glittering, one hand coming up to rest on Raistlin’s shoulder.

What the- Raistlin ducked out of the way, trying to gather his thoughts. He heard the giggles start up again, louder, and Miranda’s smile flickered for a moment.

“I need to order some robes.” Raistlin drew in a breath, centering himself. “There is no great hurry, but they need to be done by Summer Running.”

“But of course,” The smiled was back. “Come over here, sir mage.” She took his arm, fine fingers winding around his thin forearm. “We keep our swatches here, for our _discerning_ customers.”

Oh, so that was it. This was some- sales performance. No doubt Miranda did it with every customer to get the best deal. She opened a thick book of samples, “We have some lovely white tiretaine, fresh from the first shearings, and a new shipment of the finest weave linen, if you want something lighter, for the summer. “ She looked up at him, long lashes framing her eyes.

“Yes,” Raistlin said firmly, pointedly looking at the book. “But I want black robes, for Dalamar.”

Mirada’s face fell again, briefly before she forced a false smile. Behind her, the seamsters and seamstresses burst out laughing. Raistlin felt his face warm in embarrassment; were they laughing at him? He scowled at them furiously. “Or I could go elsewhere,” he snapped, “If that is too difficult a task?”

“No, please.” Miranda’s hand was tight on his shoulder, no longer trying to entice, but the firm grip of a businesswomen determined not to lose a sale. “We have some very good samples for that.” Her voice was settled and clear, no longer light and breathy as before. Good, she’d realised he wasn’t about to be seduced into her prices. “Some new lambswool- not dyed, so it will not fade, and even some new material from Ergoth,” She opened the book to a fine, velvety wool. “They shear them from unborn lambs, nothing else has quite the same coils.” Her fingers traced lovingly over the sample.

Then she blinked, and that false smile was back. _Not again_. “Of course, it’s so sad for the baby lambs.” She sighed, blinking as though to hold back tears. “But they are so beautiful, don’t you think?”

“Very beautiful.” Raistlin snapped. “And more steel than I make in a year, I don’t doubt.” Another wave of sniggers and Raistlin glared at them- _what was going on_? “I need something I can _afford_. I can manage ten steel now, and another ten when it is done.” Raistlin put the coin bag down with a _clink_.

Miranda’s mouth twitched in irritation. “Well, how many do you need? We can manage a set of lambswool from last year for that price, if you want them tailored to you.”

Raistlin shook his head. “I would need more than one set, and Dalamar is taller than I am,” he dug out a piece of foolscap, “I noted the measurements here.”

_“Bet I know how he got them_ -“ A crackle of laughter. Raistlin scowled, flushed and furious and angry. What was this? Some sort of joke? It reminded him miserably of his younger days, the laughing, mocking boys. Were they going to knock him over and punch him in the stomach too?

Miranda closed her eyes for a moment, and plastered that smile back on. Raistlin gave her a flat look, telling her it wasn’t remotely convincing. “I can manage a special deal for you,” She turned the pages back, and leaned in a little, her shoulder nudging Raistlin’s. “Here, what about this? The linen is good, and I did- I mean, I oversaw the dying myself.” A flutter of eyelashes, “It comes with my _personal_ guarantee.”

Raistlin tried to ignore the shoulder pressed against his, Miranda’s face inches from his own, and focused on the book. If she was trying to distract him and pass off some sub-standard cloth, he wouldn’t fall for it. But the linen looked good, very fine and close-woven when he touched it. He rubbed the strands between his fingers and checked the dye. Nothing came off. “I’ll take two sets, but we’ll need winter wear as well.”

Miranda pursed her lips as another wave of giggles broke out. She turned the pages wordlessly and Raistlin was able to peruse the wool swatches in peace. The finer fabrics were far out of his price range, but he could have a cheaper option made into a set of overrobes. He picked out a nice weave of black sheep’s wool. It was itchy against skin, but if Dalamar wore his linen set under it, it would be warm and proof against all but the worst weather.

“Half now, half later.” Miranda wasn’t smiling, arms crossed in front of her and a heartbeat away from scowling. Raistlin paid, trying to ignore the choked off laughter from the back of the shop. It broke out, loud and deafening as he headed out. Raistlin looked back at them, angry and bewildered, his face burning. They were all laughing. All of them. At him. Because he was so funny to them. A pathetic, sickly parody of a wizard. A frail mockery of a man. Just a _joke_ -

His throat felt too full, his eyes burned. He turned on his heel and fled.

 

* * *

 

 

“They were all laughing.” Raistlin said, finally getting the words out. “I’m not even sure what they were laughing _about_.” He shook his head, looking down at his clenched hands in his lap, the blazing shame at the humiliation just as bright as it had been an hour ago.

“All of them?” Dalamar said gently, his arm tightened around Raistlin’s shoulders, pulling him closer.

“Yes- well, all but Miranda, but she was probably more worried about losing her sale, she looked more angry than anything.” He sighed, and rubbed his face. “I should have asked someone to take my order to Haven.”

“I don’t think so.” Dalamar mused. “Actually, I don’t think they were laughing at you at all.”

Raistlin looked up, “It would hardly be the first time.”

But Dalamar just nodded, he kissed Raistlin’s temple and the touch eased some of the clenched misery in his stomach. “Let me try another explanation,” Dalamar continued. “You said this Miranda is very beautiful, yes? Very sought after, and rather flirtatious?”

Raistlin nodded. Dalamar might see that one of those doing the seeking had been Raistlin- but he wasn’t going to admit it. “And those around her, who work with her- they are beautiful too?”

Raistlin gave a weak smile, and leant in, resting against Dalamar. “Some of the young men are very attractive.” Not that he’d bothered to look much, even before the hilarity had started.

“So, consider this.” Dalamar rubbed his shoulder. “The young people have a- competition, of sorts. They dare the most beautiful among them to go and seduce the more unlikely people in town. She, being competitive and fond of the chase, agrees to this test of her abilities. As she is beautiful and charming, they each surrender to her advances and fall in love with her. So the challenges grow harder and harder, until the young people find the most difficult target for her affections- the young mage who has never looked at a woman in interest, and is rather infamously sleeping with another man.”

Raistlin blinked, got another hug. “So when the young mage comes into her shop to buy himself some new robes, she takes the opportunity to prove her prowess in front of all her friends. And she fails, spectacularly. The mage rebuffs her at every turn, and humiliates her in front of everyone. They are laughing- _at her_ , and she is furious and embarrassed.”

“Oh.” Raistlin closed his eyes. It- actually made sense, but he didn’t feel much better about it. “What a ridiculous game.” He gave a weary smile, "I assume they came after you too?"

“Yes,” Dalamar nuzzled his hair. “Although they were too frightened of me to persevere. It’s never worth caring what such idiots think. Let them laugh for now, we will be laughing in the end.”

The words lit something warm inside Raistlin, fierce and burning. He pushed aside the doubts the mockery had reawakened, and relaxed into Dalamar’s arms. “Yes. Let them have their games and their conquests. We will have our magic.”

They sat together for a while, quietly, in the deepening shadows. Gods, this was good. “I have been thinking of a way we could gain evenmore,” He said finally, felt Dalamar stir with interest “My master keeps his spellbooks locked away in his basement, behind two magelocked doors. I suspect that between the two of us-“ he trailed off, not quite daring to say it aloud.

Dalamar grinned, teeth flashing white in the dim light. “Oh yes,” he licked his lips. “A lovely idea, but would they guess-“

“Not if we wait a few more weeks,” Raistlin’s eyes glittered, “Tasslehoff will be back, you see, and what else can you expect from a kender? Theobald will have his books back, of course, but they would be gone for a few days.”

Dalamar laughed, soft and bright, and that laugh warmed Raistlin too- a sweet, comforting warmth, like sinking into a hot bath in winter.

 


	6. Sisters and Lovers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which our mages overhear a conversation, come to a decision, and Skull Bearer finally reaches the point where the first version of this fic STARTED.

 

 

As the night fell, the flicker of firelight between the trees became more noticeable, the songs and laughter from the clearing coming louder.

“What is this?” Dalamar said.

“The spring festival.” Raistlin stood and stretched, “An excuse for the town to run around and get out of breath, then get drunk and find the closest dark corner for trysts.” Dalamar rose and Raistlin paused for a moment, wondering if he’d read Dalamar wrong. “Unless you would like to go?”

“Hardly.” Dalamar smiled. Good, he’d been right. “But your brother will be there- and therefore, not be around to bother us.” His hand dropped to the small of Raistlin’s back, caressed gently.

Raistlin turned and caught him in his arms, and kissed Dalamar firmly, the Dark elf’s lips close and hungry under his. For a moment, everything blinked out and there was nothing but this, their bodies pressed together, sharing breath, the taste of magic bright between them.

Dalamar stroked his shoulder, teased at the throat of Raistlin’s robes. “In an hour or so, this place will be full of couples looking for somewhere quiet,” Raistlin said dryly, “Let’s go elsewhere.”

Another kiss, dazzling. “Of course.”

They left the faint light of the festival behind, heading up the walkways and into the leaves. Dalamar smiled and slid an arm around his waist, leaning up against him as they walked on. The moons were starting to rise, and Raistlin felt Dalamar slow beside him, one hand on the banister and looking up.

Raistlin slowed his own pace in response. This far above the firelight the stars were vivid, he could pick out Solinari just rising through the leaves, Lunitari high above. It was only having spent the last few weeks with Dalamar that allowed Raistlin to mark out the tell-tale missing stars blotted out by Nuitari.

“We could go down to the lake,” Raistlin said softly, “It would make for a beautiful view, and we would be quite alone tonight.”

 “Hmm,” Dalamar murmured his agreement, stroked his arm. “If we go down past the Trough, would that take us out of the danger area?”

Raistlin smiled, “I doubt anyone will be heading out this far. We should have the outskirts and the lake to ourselves.” He pulled his cloak around himself against the chill of the night- but this far into spring, the cold had lost its bite. “We could spend the night out, if you like.”

“Of course.” Dalamar drew a deep breath, looking up at the tree branches above, the flickering moons' lights, and Raistlin remembered vividly that first evening in Solace, looking up at the moons from the roof of the Inn. It was difficult to tell, but Raistlin thought the Dark elf seemed happier now. There had been something brittle about him, when they had first met on the road. Something that had gradually faded when they’d started living together. Raistlin might be arrogant enough to congratulate himself for that; but seeing the way Dalamar looked around at the vallenwoods, the way his hand trailed over the living wood, was proof enough as to what had caused that change.

It was silent, this far from the celebrations. The houses were dark and empty, and the stillness was a little unnerving- this was a rougher part of Solace, and Raistlin had rarely come here. Dalamar didn’t seem to notice, looking around calmly.  It was so quiet they could hear themselves breathe, so quiet that when a voice broke the silence it made both of them start.

“You sot!” A voice that was unmistakably Kitiara’s came from below them. Dalamar and Raistlin stopped walking to listen.

“Keep me waiting in the cold for hours while you suck down rotgut, will you? I’ve half a mind to slit your ale-swilling belly!”

“I am not past our meeting time," a cold voice countered, "If anything, I am early." Dalamar glanced at Raistlin, but Raistlin shook his head. He didn’t recognise the voice.

Quietly as a cat, Dalamar crouched down and peered over the edge of the walkway. Raistlin lowered himself carefully in turn, but the world below the walkway was a mass of senseless black. Dalamar blinked several times, eyes adjusting to the darkness. He beckoned Raistlin closer and whispered "It's your sister down there, and a man I haven't seen before."

"What does he look like?" Raistlin hissed back. If the description was of someone he knew, it might shed light on the situation.

"Cloaked and hooded, tall as Kitiara, but I can't see any more." Dalamar’s voice lowered further, eyes darting back down, afraid of being heard and missing the rest of the conversation.

"Let's get down to business." Kitiara finished, Raistlin held his breath, determined not to miss any more.

"Maps?" The man asked, Raistlin was just about to ask what was happening when Dalamar placed a finger to his lips.  _Be quiet._

"See for yourself." It was so quiet - not a breath of wind - and the rustle below could only have come from parchment.

"It's all there," she continued, "plus more than your lord asked for. The defenses of Qualinesti are delineated on the main map: number of guard posts, number of guards posted, how often the guards are changed, what type of weapons they carry, and so forth. I walked the entire border of Qualinesti myself twice. I've marked on different map the weak spots in their defense, possible areas of penetration, and I've indicated the easiest access routes from the north."

Dalamar was very still and Raistlin suddenly remembered how curious Kitiara had been about him, when they had first met. She had tried to turn the conversation to Dalamar’s own homeland, before the Dark elf had shut her down. Had she been searching for information even then?

Slowly, Dalamar slid himself back, away from the edge of the walkway, and laid a hand on Raistlin’s shoulder. "Be careful, " he breathed, almost inaudibly. "Don't move a muscle, they're both very alert for any noise."

"This is excellent," the man said. Another rustle. "My lord will be pleased. What else have you heard about Qualinesti? I hear you've taken a half-elf lover who was born up in-ulp!" The man stopped speaking abruptly.

When Kitiara spoke, her voice was lethal. "You leave him out of this! If you think I would demean myself by sleeping with any man in order to gain information, you're wrong, my friend. And you could be dead wrong if you say or do anything to make him the least suspicious."

The hiss of steel being drawn emphasised her point all too well.

"Sorry Kit. I didn't mean anything by it. How did you get away tonight?"

"I told him I was spending the night with my brothers." Kitiara's voice was calmer now, "I'll have my money now."

Another rustle, that of cloak and leather, then the clink of coin.

"There's more where that came from if you happen to pick up any additional information about Qualinesti and the elves. Information that you just happen to find 'lying around'."

Kitiara chuckled. "How do I contact you?"

"Leave a message at The Trough. I'll stop by whenever I'm passing this way. But won't you be travelling north soon?"

"I don't think so. I'm happy enough where I am for the time being. There's my little brothers to think of."

"Uh-huh." Grunt.

"They're getting to the age where they might be some use to us."

Dalamar gave Raistlin a sharp glance, Raistlin shook his head, he knew nothing of this.

"I've seen them around town. The big one we could use as a soldier maybe, though he's clumsy as a kobold and looks about as bright. The other though- the magic user that hangs around with that Dark elf. Rumor has it that they're quite talented. My lord would be pleased to have them join his ranks."

"Rumor has it wrong!" Kit snapped. "Raistlin can pull a coin out of his nose and that's about it, and the elf's so love-blind for my brother he can barely charm rats out of alehouses."

“He’s not Qualinesti, that one.” The man sounded thoughtful. “There’s a good reward for any news from Silvanesti, if that’s where he’s from. My lord has plans for the elven lands, Kit, and he’ll pay double for anything that’ll help with those plans.”

Dalamar’s lips narrowed, shoulders hunching defensively. “Who cares where he’s from?” Kitiara sneered, “I doubt you’d get anything of use out of him- if he even talks at all.”

“Steel loosens tongues.”

“Then you go to try and pry anything out of that one.” Kitiara’s tone was final. “I’ve wasted enough of my time with them. My brother and that elf can both go to the Abyss for all the good they’ll do anyone.”

Raistlin saw Dalamar’s lip curl, a satisfied smile. He nodded his agreement. If Kitiara was slightly less arrogant, was slightly more willing to swallow her pride, she would be far more dangerous to them. Thankfully, she was never going to forgive Dalamar his rebuff, and they were safe.

"There’s one more person we should discuss.” The man continued, undaunted by Kitiara’s coldness. “You. Lord Ariakas would be pleased to have you join us as well, Kit. On a permanent basis. You'd make a fine commander. He said so."

"I didn't know His Lordship and I were on such familiar terms. I've never met the man."

"He knows you, Kit. By sight and by reputation. He's impressed and this will impress him further. He's prepared to offer you a place in his new army. It's a great opportunity. One day he will rule all of Ansalon, and after that all of Krynn."

Raistlin blinked. Dalamar frowned and leaned closer, trying to see more between the slats in the walkway. Just banter, and delusions of grandeur; Raistlin tried to convince himself, but there was something in the man’s calm, assured voice that sent a chill through him.

"Indeed?" Kit sounded impressed. "He doesn't think small, does he?"

"Why should he? He has powerful allies. Which reminds me. How do you feel about dragons?"

Dragons? Raistlin wondered, what it this man talking about? No one had heard of dragons since before the days of Istar. Was this Ariakas using them as a totem? A symbol for his army?

"Dragons!" Kitiara sounded amused. "I think they are fine for scaring the wits out of little children, but that's about all. What do you mean?"

"Nothing in particular. You wouldn't be afraid of them, would you?"

When Kit next spoke, her voice held a dangerous edge. "I fear nothing in this world or the next, does any man say different?"

"No one says different, Kit; my lord has heard us all speak of you courage. That's why he wants you to join us."

"I'm happy here, for the time being at least.”

"Suit yourself, but the offer still stands if you ever want to take it up."

"I might, we'll see. I'll be in touch."

The voices broke off, and there was the faint tread of boots on dead leaves below.

Dalamar's grey eyes glinted at Raistlin in the moons’ light.

"Now, what was that about?" He murmured.

The footsteps slowly trailed away into the darkness, and Raistlin released the breath he’d been holding. He shifted back on the walkway, and stretched his cramping legs and getting up stiffly. He glanced at Dalamar, but the Dark elf was looking away, down into the shadows where Kitiara had disappeared. "Lord Ariakas." He murmured, standing up too.

Raistlin caught the recognition in his voice, "Do you know him?" He took Dalamar’s arm and led him away, out of the moonslight and into the shadow of the trees.

“No,” Dalamar said thoughtfully. “But I have heard of him. In Tarsis.” His face shuttered for a moment, then he shook himself, throwing off the memories like a horse shaking off flies. “He was much spoken of- good pay, and an impressive army. A lot of people spoke of joining his forces in the north.”

North. Dalamar had been going north when Raistlin had met him. Dalamar met his gaze, and looked away ruefully with a self-conscious shrug. Raistlin smiled, and shifted over to rest against Dalamar’s  side.

"His loss.” He let it go for now. “Is that all you know?"

“Little more. He’s gathering in Sanction, I believe.” He leaned into Raistlin as they walked, and carded his fingers through his hair. Raistlin closed his eyes to enjoy the contact. “There was no talk of dragons, though.”

"Dragons..." Raistlin tasted the word, tentatively, and felt the slow, crawling fear clench his stomach again. He shook himself impatiently- was he trembling at fairy tales now? "This Ariakas must be desperate if he's relying on stories to frighten children." It came out too brash, too brittle a bravado.

"Stories." Dalamar repeated him flatly, his eyes glittering in the darkness as they headed down out of the vallenwood. "That's what they said about the Gods."

It was a relief in a way. To know he wasn't being foolish, and Dalamar was willing to entertain that possibility too. In another way, Raistlin would almost have preferred to be laughed at, if it killed the creeping dread inside him. For a moment, they sat in silence, feeling the reverberations of Dalamar's words ripple out, like a stone dropped in a still pool. "Do you believe that?" Raistlin said finally.

Dalamar rubbed his forehead. "I'm not sure. I believed the Gods had abandoned us once, and then I met one in a cave." His lip quirked, half amused. "I would prefer to know more before dismissing anything as Kender tales."

And where were they going to get that information, Raistlin wondered. He glanced around as they reached the ground, but his sister and her companion were long gone. "Kitiara will not talk," he thought aloud, "and I doubt she knows more than we do. Brightblade has boasted knowing dragon lore-" Dalamar's lip curled. "Quite, besides I doubt he'd share, even if it was accurate." Dalamar nodded, and ran his nails lightly over Raistlin's scalp. His mind went blissfully blank for a moment, the shivering touch drawing a low, happy sound from his throat. "Gods, that's lovely. Theobald may have some books on dragons, we should keep an eye out for them."

Dalamar hummed his agreement, and his fingers drew down to the nape of Raistlin's neck, nails scratching lightly over the sensitive skin. "This is not helping me concentrate." Raistlin managed, eyes drifting shut in pleasure, leaning against Dalamar and letting the Dark elf guide him along the path to Crystalmir lake.

"I imagine not, no." Dalamar agreed.

Raistlin opened his eyes again, Dalamar was good, but Raistlin wouldn't leave the subject unspoken between them. "And would you join Ariakas' army now, given the choice?"

"Of course not. I went north because I simply had no better idea of where else to go. Ariakas attracts people like your sister, from what I've heard. Most who spoke of him were those I would not trust as far as I could throw them. His army must be a place where everyone sleeps with both eyes open." Dalamar let his voice trail off as they broke through the treeline, and the wide reflected sky of Crystalmir lake came into view. Raistlin felt Dalamar sigh against him, deep and soft at the beautiful sight.

"Good." Raistlin smiled. The hand in his hair had stilled and he nudged it in complaint. Dalamar chuckled and ran a thumbnail over the edge of Raistlin's ear. "But north may not be an entirely bad choice," Raistlin continued. "Not to join that army- Gods know I want to keep Kitiara as far from us as possible- but when this Ariakas decides to make his play for world domination, people will be raising armies against him. And mercenary mages would be able to set their own prices in such a market."

He was rewarded with a firm drag of nails over his scalp, down his neck and across his shoulders. Raistlin closed his eyes and sagged against Dalamar. The entirety of the northern armies could have invaded Solace at that moment and he would not have cared to move. "You do have marvelous ideas." Dalamar purred into his hair, drawing him off the path, and easing them down into the long grass at the edge of the lake. "Though I regret to remind you- we are no warrior mages."

"Not yet anyway." Raistlin murmured, he turned, face half buried in Dalamar's robes. “We’ll see what Theobald’s books hold.”

"Hmm." Dalamar brushed Raistlin's hair from the back of his neck, and pressed a heated kiss on the soft skin. Then a bite, deep and hungry that made Raistlin shiver and press back. “Are you thinking about Theobald now?” He teased.

"No." Raistlin laughed, the moons were high now, shimmering across the lake, and the air was cool and sweet, tickling Raistlin’s skin as Dalamar pulled his robes half open, hands sliding in hungrily as he pulled Raistlin back to sit in his lap. "How did you manage to walk with that,” he smiled teasingly. “That feels rather uncomfortable." He wriggled in Dalamar’s lap.

"Hmm, so you noticed, did you?" A soft, warm laugh in his ear, Dalamar nipped the lobe. "And what are you going to do about it?"

 "I can think of a few ideas." Raistlin turned in Dalamar's arms and kissed him, sweet and open-mouthed. "Such as this-" His fingers traced the pattern of the magic in Lunitari's light, " _Cairnir_."

Dalamar laughed as his robes slid off his shoulders, his sash unknotted and fell to the grass. "Now _this_ is a new use for that spell. Where did you learn that? Not from that master of yours, or I shall be very displeased."

"I simply wondered if it could be used for more than cleaning up spills or correcting mistakes on a scroll." Raistlin grinned, the power of the spell flashed through him, warm and bright and Gods, caught like this, between the coils of the magic and Dalamar's arms-

He'd never imagined happiness like this could exist.

"All the magic in the world, and you." Raistlin continued, pushing Dalamar down and kissing the lean muscles of his stomach, opening his robes all the way down.

 "And that will do, will it?" Dalamar smirked down at him, seeing what he was doing.

"For the moment at any rate." Raistlin was smiling shamelessly; he was feeling ridiculously smug and didn't care in the least. Now, how had Dalamar done this? He'd made it look so easy, that night on the road. He licked his lips, and pressed a kiss just above Dalamar’s cock, the hair there crisp and taut, the scent deep and musky. He felt Dalamar’s breath catch hungrily, felt his heartbeat quicken, pulse through the arteries on his inner thighs.

"Oh yes? Well if that's the case then I think-"

Any more was cut off as Raistlin got to work, and Dalamar had bite his hand to keep from making too much noise. A strangled, high-pitched whine escaped, and Raistlin smiled around his mouthful. The taste was- strange, salt and musk and not particularly pleasant, but the sounds struggling to escape Dalamar made it all the more worth it.

Dalamar dropped back into the long grass, and Raistlin could feel him shiver against his hands, in his mouth. A choked, shattering breath, and dug his fingers into Raistlin’s hair- not so gentle or teasing now, nails sharp in his scalp, pulling him down and demanding he take more, swallow all of him-

There was probably a trick to this, Raistlin thought muzzily. Dalamar had managed to take all of him in, but he wasn’t more than halfway down and already close to gagging. He sucked what he could reach and Dalamar yelped, shuddering and Raistlin could _taste_ him, a bitter tang on his tongue. Could feel him get even harder, veins standing out against his tongue and pulsing with want.

Perhaps it was the heat of them, blazing fiercely until Raistlin had to shift himself more comfortably against the ground, his cock aching almost painfully, tight against his stomach. It jogged something free from Raistlin’s memory- something he had learned from Weird Meggin, when checking a patient’s throat for signs of disease. He took Dalamar as far in as he could, and pinched his thumb under his forefinger.

It eased the urge to gag almost immediately. He slid Dalamar further in and was rewarded with a deep, rattling groan from the Dark elf. Raistlin smiled, pleased by his own cleverness-

Then Dalamar arched up suddenly, and his cock hit the back of Raistlin's throat and he _choked_ , coughing and struggling to breathe and not be sick-

“Oh, Nuitari-“ Dalamar groaned and let go of his hair. “I’m sorry, I-“ and broke off. Raistlin swallowed twice to control himself, drew a deep breath, and licked Dalamar from root to tip. Another approach then.

“Here-“ Dalamar gripped the base of his cock, fisted himself twice, shivering. Raistlin nodded and wrapped his own hand around him, squeezed, pressed his thumb lightly at the base, and sucked the tip.

It was too much for Dalamar, he dropped his head back with a low cry, and came in his mouth.

It was _vile_. Bitter and slick and revolting. Raistlin turned his head and spat in disgust, wiping his mouth to get rid of the taste- Dalamar had _swallowed that?_

He was laughing, low and lazy and amused and- thankfully- not bothered by Raistlin’s distaste. “It does taste awful.” He agreed. “But the sight of you was very much worth it.”

He had a point. Seeing Dalamar sprawled on the ground, sweat-slick and shivering, languid and trembling with pleasure- Gods, Raistlin would put up with almost any discomfort to see _that_ every evening. Dalamar’s eyes glittered in Lunitari’s light, his lips parted as he licked his lips. “Now,” He purred, and sat up, his hair falling in a long, red-washed wave down his back. “My turn.”

He cock must fit far better in Dalamar’s mouth, the Dark elf took him in with almost no effort at all, and when Raistlin came, fast as a bowshot in Dalamar’s own hot, tormenting mouth- he hoped he made a beautiful view for Dalamar to enjoy in turn.


	7. Interlude- Night Dreams

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Raistlin's nightmare.

It was dark, the time of night when the moons were high and the house was still. It was cold in Raistlin’s little room; the fire in the fireplace must have burnt down to embers. Raistlin sat up, shivering, and closed the window.

Even curled up back in bed, huddled close against Dalamar, he couldn’t stop shaking. Eyes open, eyes closed, the world seemed full of hungry claws and teeth, eager to drag him back into his nighttime horrors.

Horrors that he was thoroughly sick of having; dreams he still couldn't recall, only that they frightened him beyond thought. Shadows skulking after him even now, as he sat shivering in the darkness. His aching muscles trembled as though he had been running, his breath coming too fast, his body almost feverish chilled with sweat.

He was still lying there, curled into a ball, when a muffled sound brought him back to himself. He blinked and turned, still shaken, to the warm figure beside him. Dalamar was looking at him, half asleep; he rubbed a hand over his eyes and pushed himself up against the headboard of the bed.

"Bad dream?" he mumbled.

Raistlin nodded, feeling embarrassed now that the initial panic had faded. Just a dream, a bad dream; but still his heart was beating too fast, exhausted mind still half-convinced that whatever had chased him from his sleep had followed him into the waking world. Absurd.

The sliver of Lunitari let in by the curtains lit up Dalamar’s half smile, gentle and calming. "I get those myself." He lifted one hand and ran it through Raistlin’s hair.

Raistlin leant into the caress; resting his head on the Dark elf's shoulder, feeling an arm curl around him and pull him closer still. Dalamar was warm, and the firm grip of his hands pushed away the final mists of the nightmare. Raistlin started to relax, feeling his eyes grow heavy again, soothed by the slow, gentle stroking of Dalamar’s hands in his hair.

"Feeling better?" Dalamar asked softly.

"Mmm." He smiled against Dalamar’s neck. This was good.

"Do you get these nightmares often?" He worked his fingers through Raistlin’s hair, and Raistlin shivered, in pleasure this time as Dalamar’s nails scratched over his scalp.

"Unfortunately." Raistlin yawned. “They come now and again... oh, that feels good.” Dalamar hummed, continuing to run his fingers through Raistlin’s hair. Raistlin felt himself beginning to drift off again, feeling very warm wrapped in the Dark elf's arms.

"What happens when you get these when I am not here?" A kiss pressed to his forehead. Raistlin lifted his head and sought the Dark elf’s lips to kiss back, open-mouthed and sweet.

Raistlin broke the kiss, smiled. "I scream and wake my brother up." He shifted, and pulled Dalamar back down to lie on the bed.

"And he comes and pats you on the head.” Dryly.

"Hmm." Raistlin smiled and crooked his fingers into rabbit ears. “Look Raist, bunnies!” He mimicked.

Dalamar chuckled, and pulled his fingers down to kiss. "But now you've got me."

“But now I have you.” Raistlin agreed, nodding. Warmth, security, Dalamar’s hands in his hair- Gods this felt good. Caramon had tried, at least, had been a good brother. Raistlin yawned, his brother must have been quite sick of having Raistlin wake him with his bad dreams, no doubt he was glad Raistlin was able to manage without him now.

"Are you feeling better now?" Dalamar asked, before pressing a kiss to Raistlin's temple.

"Much." His voice was muffled, face buried against his lover's shoulder. The tension of the bad dream was gone, the hidden teeth of the nightmare gone and faded to nothing.

"Good." Dalamar purred.

They settled down to sleep, Raistlin curled up and rested his head on his arm, and Dalamar wrapped himself around his back. One arm thrown over his side, and a leg cast over his.

"Dalamar?" Raistlin murmured.

"Yes?" Spoken into his hair.

"I am sorry I woke you."

There was a short laugh, then another kiss, this time to his ear. "And you didn't mean to have a nightmare, I'm sure. It was my pleasure, Raistlin."

"Hmm." Raistlin rolled over, and slid an arm around the elf's bare waist.

"I'm expecting the same treatment when I wake up shaking, I'll have you know."

Raistlin smiled broadly, "You'll get it, and it will be my pleasure," he echoed Dalamar's words.

"Sleep well, quiet dreams." A kiss, whispered across his cheek.

"The same to you, Dalamar."

A moment of quiet, then; "I love you, Dark elf."

And a fourth kiss; on the lips finally, before Raistlin closed his eyes, and drifted off to more peaceful dreams.

 


	8. Friends and Trouble

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dalamar meets the other Companions. First impressions are not his strong point.

 

The smell of roses was always the first thing that woke Dalamar. Rose petals drying for spell components, fresh for rosehips and stewed for tea. It was a few breaths before he could pick up the hints of the damp leaves and bark from outside, and the mixed scents of their bodies from the previous night.

And this morning, the scent of baked sweetbread, and fresh fruit. Dalamar sat up and smiled, not bothering to open his eyes. “You’re up early.”

A kiss, sweet and bright. “First plums of the summer. I thought it worth the effort.”

Dalamar opened his eyes, and kissed back. Good morning indeed. He was rewarded with three small, sweet smelling plums and a chunk of honeybread.

“It seems Flint is home,” Raistlin sat beside him, started on his own fruit.

A momentary distraction was provided by those neat, white teeth digging into the red flesh, a trickle of juice running over his lips- then the words sank in and Dalamar shook himself. This was relevant. “The dwarf?”

“Yes, he must have come back last night.”

Dalamar nodded, eating comfortably. Raistlin cocked his head, curious. “You intend to meet with him?”

“I may,” Dalamar smiled, finished the honeybread and leant over to tuck the last plum into a pocket of his robes. “Would that be advisable?”

Raistlin shrugged, those narrow shoulders rising, hollowing the skin where Dalamar had left a purpling bite mark. He smiled. “He’s crotchety to everyone, although he isn’t the one we should worry about.” He wiped his mouth.

Dalamar felt his hackles rise; was this another Brightblade they needed to watch out for? The knightling had been avoiding them, but if there were two-

But Raistlin smiled, shaking his head. “Nothing like that, but the kender will have come back with Flint.”

Dalamar felt something cold lock behind his teeth, his spine stiffening. He glanced quickly to the pouch that held his hard-won savings from the last few weeks and the panic clawed at the back of his throat. _No_. Not again.

He wasn’t sure how much of this Raistlin had read, but he was looking at him curiously. “You know kender?” He asked softly.

“I met one. Twice.” He managed to keep his voice steady but- gods, that was enough. Sweet Nuitari it was _more_ than enough.

“We have been living with Tasslehoff here for nearly ten years.” Raistlin rested a hand on his shoulder, then went to dig through a drawer. “I have found ways of managing him. And he will make a good excuse when we steal Theobald’s spellbooks.”

“I’m sure,” Dalamar said dryly. Raistlin’s white robes might be due to his sponsor, but sometimes Dalamar did feel the difference between them. He had decided on his own way of dealing with kender, but he doubted Raistlin would like it.

Raistlin emerged with a handful of trinkets, tipping them onto the bed. Glass beads, a small carved cat, a chunk of pyrite and a polished chunk of stone with nonsense runes carved into it. Raistlin picked up the pyrite and tucked it in his components pouch. “One for each pouch,” he instructed, “kenders get distracted easily, Tasslehoff will take the interesting object and leave everything else.”

Dalamar looked down at the jumble of objects, and felt anger coil in his stomach; tasted ice. So much effort to avoid having their precious belongings stolen by a dancing, mocking _clown_. His hands clenched. “I would like to try my own approach.” He said carefully, keeping the rage out of his voice.

Raistlin picked up on it anyway and paused. “Flint is protective of the kender, regardless of what he might say,” he said, choosing words carefully. “And however annoying he might be, Tasslehoff is harmless.”

Harmless. Yes, here it might be harmless. Playful, even amusing as long as you were not the target. It had not been harmless before. Not even close. “I will be careful.” Was all he said.

“Do not harm him.” Raistlin looked at him pleadingly. Why? It wasn’t just fear that any violence against the kender might have Dalamar thrown out; did he feel the kender was owed something? Dalamar managed not to sneer, and stood up. “As I said, I will be careful.” He met Raistlin’s eyes, and sighed, “Nothing permanent.”

“What is the matter?” Raistlin stood too, reached for him.

 _No_. Gods, he loved Raistlin but discussing _that_ was out of the question. The coiling wretchedness, the misery sunk deep into his bones, the despair-

“I need to leave.” He kept his voice steady, but it came out _cold_ , cold and brittle as ice. Raistlin started, and his eyes shuttered. He’d left himself open, and Dalamar had hurt him. Nuitari, no- everything felt sharp as broken glass, every motion wrong. “I-“ He wanted to _fix_ this, ease the jagged edges between them, but everything he said, every motion, just hurt them more. “I will see you later.” Defeated.

“Dalamar-“ But he was gone.

He slowed down outside the house, took a deep breath. Gods- what was he doing? It was _good_ , what he had here. Was he really going to risk it in the name of-

Of pain. And loss and helpless panic and utterly empty hopelessness. Things Raistlin did not know, could not understand. Things Dalamar would do a great deal to make sure Raistlin _never_ understood. He just needed to accept that there were some things Dalamar- could not change.

He took a deep breath and started walking down to the lone stone house, down among the roots of the trees. With luck, the kender would have left already, wandering out to plague everyone else in town. But just in case, Dalamar stopped and bought a few of- certain items. Items which would hopefully keep the kender far away from him. Not his favorite way of dealing with the filth, but it might be something of a middle ground- and perhaps Raistlin might reconsider his own approach, once he saw the effectiveness of Dalamar’s.

Thankfully, the dwarf was alone when Dalamar arrived, opening his doors and kindling his forge for business. Dalamar drew in a breath and straightened his robes as best his could. First impressions were never going to be in his favour, but he hoped he’d at least not get the door slammed in his face.

The dwarf didn’t see him at first, until he was only a few meters away. He glanced up absently for a moment, not really seeing Dalamar, then went back to his work.

Then stopped. His head jerked up and he recoiled, as though Dalamar were a poisonous serpent. Eyes wide and face taut under the greying beard. Dalamar took a breath, drew himself up- he was easily twice as tall as the dwarf. “I am here to see your wares.” His voice was stiff and uncomfortable.

The dwarf blinked. “What?”

Dalamar gritted his teeth. The dwarf was staring at him as though he was a dog that had learned to talk, or a horse walking on its hind legs. “I said,” He snarled, “I want to see your wares.”

The dwarf’s eyes narrowed. “What for?”

Oh Nuitari, Dalamar wanted very much to leave but- he’d been saving for weeks for this. “To buy something. With steel.” He touched his pouch tentatively, letting the coins clink.

That seemed to get through the dwarf’s shock and suspicion. He gave Dalamar another scrutinising look, Dalamar pulled uncomfortably at his old robes. “You can come in.” He grumbled.

Okay. Okay. Dalamar exhaled. Good. He didn’t miss the way the dwarf’s eyes rested on his ax for a moment too long- but he didn’t go near it. A good start, from what Dalamar was used to.

“Not seen you before.” The dwarf continued, opening travelling cases, “You came in the spring?”

“A few months ago.” Dalamar said shortly, and looked down at the boxes and- _yes_. He had seen some of the dwarf’s work at the Inn, where the idea had first occurred to him. He picked up a long cloak pin, vallenwood twined with long lines of silver, and smiled. The wood felt alive in his hand, warmed when he ran a strand of magic over it. Good.

“They’re letting everyone in these days.” A growl, just loud enough Dalamar knew he was meant to hear it. His lip curled. His tongue burnt with the urge to bite back, but swallowed down his anger.

“A ring.” He snapped. “Like this, pale wood and copper. Some stones in pale blue, but I only have twelve steel.”

The dwarf nodded, and for a moment the tension left and Dalamar could breathe. No longer dwarf and Dark elf, just a shopkeeper and a customer. The dwarf retrieved a small case from behind a pile of larger ones, and opened it.

 _Yes_. That one. Dalamar picked it out. The wood so smooth it felt like cloth, the copper twisting around it like vines. The tiny studs of pale lapiz cleverly caught between them. He held it up, and tried it on. Their fingers were near enough in size, what fitted him would fit Raistlin. He looked closely at the band, and the small stones. Yes, about the right colours. It would tie the spell more securely. _“Batin selemat-_ “ he tested, and felt the ring warm in response.

“Stop that!” The dwarf flushed, backing away towards the ax. Dalamar gave him a scornful look. “Whatever black magic you’re trying-“

“Oh enough.” Dalamar sneered, and tucked the ring away. “How much?”

The dwarf looked from him, to his coin pouch, then grunted, “Ten.”

Probably more than he’d offer anyone else, but still less than the ring should be worth, for that workmanship. “Done.” Dalamar snapped. He opened the pouch and carefully picked out the coins. The dwarf stared at them suspiciously, and bit one so hard he nearly broke a tooth, but said nothing. Dalamar gave a stiff nod and walked out, only allowing himself a smile once he was a safe distance away. Only a few days to cast the spells and bind the enchantment, but it would be finished in time.

And, as a small figure darted into view among the trees and headed towards him, hopefully it would stand as something of an apology.

 

* * *

 

 

Theobald hadn’t paid him this week, claiming his money from the Conclave hadn’t arrived. As aggravating as that was, it did give Raistlin the perfect excuse to avoid the school today. Instead he took his books out to the garden. He’d clear his mind tending to his plants, and study by himself today.

Caramon was up, and even he could notice the tension in his shoulders, and see Dalamar was not there. He gave Raistlin a knowing look. Raistlin gritted his teeth and didn’t meet his eyes, marching out of the house.

This would pass, he told himself firmly. People had disagreements. It wasn’t possible for two people to live together and not clash over things. Even if he didn’t understand what Dalamar was angry about, why he refused to speak, and just put back up those walls Raistlin hadn’t seen for several months.

He would just have to work it out for himself.

It felt better, in the garden. The green of the trees and plants, and smell of growing things. The quiet reassurance that this was _his_ place. A place he knew every inch of, and recognised at a glance. A place he understood, and needed no explanations from.

Raistlin sighed and settled down in on the damp ground, and started pulling up weeds.

The world settled as he worked, calming. Raistlin sat back and brushed his robes down, then pulled out his books. If they were going to try and break into Theobald’s study- if only for Raistlin to recoup his lost pay- he wanted to look over the spells he had and see what could be useful.

A spell of light, one of Dalamar’s to show them the way in. One of his own, made to detect magic, to help them see the wards. They wouldn’t have the means to dispel them, but wards could be disrupted once he knew where they were. A spell of burning, one of the few Dalamar had salvaged from his dark spellbooks, would work very well for that.

Perhaps it was the magic, and the garden, but things felt- better. The world seemed to fit together again and Raistlin could look back at the confusion and hurt of that morning with equanimity, Dalamar had had a bad morning, that was all. They would meet this evening and things would be better-

“Raistlin?”

Raistlin looked up irritably, if that was Caramon, he would-

But it wasn’t Caramon. Tanis was leaning on the vallenwood root, smiling. “Have you seen Kitiara?”

Far more than he cared to. “She has been staying at the Inn.” Raistlin said flatly. He looked at Tanis, after spending so long with Dalamar he couldn’t help but try and pick out Half-Elven’s mixed features. Trying to work out what was human and what was elf.

Tanis met his gaze, a little puzzled at the scrutiny, “Not with you and Caramon?”

That would hardly be conductive to meeting mysterious men and trying to accost my lover. “She has her own business to attend to.” Tanis was staring at him, Raistlin looked away, back down at his book.

“What is-“ Tanis frowned, stepped closer. “On your neck?”

Oh. Raistlin touched his neck, the bruise-purple bite mark Dalamar had left. “That is hardly-“

A scream of pain cut through the morning quiet. They both jumped. Raistlin nearly dropped his spellbook. Tasslehoff. Oh no.

He stumbled to his feet. Tanis was already running towards the cries, and Raistlin struggled to keep up, his heart ringing in his ears and breath coming sharp as knives. Please, please let it be something else. Someone else. Someone who finally had enough of the kender’s behaviour and lashed out. Not Dalamar-

“ _Get it off!_ ” Tasslehoff’s scream. The kender crashed through the bushes and saw them. “Tanis!” he wailed, waving his hands at him. “Make it stop!”

Both his hands were caught in mousetraps.

Sheer relief hit Raistlin like a wave, he dropped his spellbook and tried to laugh- but was so out of breath it came out in a wheeze. Dalamar followed after, looking smug. Tanis was trying to help Tasslehoff, but the kender was hopping about so quickly, wailing and waving his injured hands, he couldn’t catch him.

“Hold him.” Raistlin straightened, “I will remove them.”

Tanis nodded, and picked up the kender around the middle, lifting him off the ground. “Hold still Tas!”

The mousetraps were good ones and Raistlin couldn’t help a wince at the damage they had done. “You have broken fingers.” He informed Tasslehoff, then dug through the kender’s pouches.

“Those are mine.” Tasslehoff whined. Raistlin pulled out a handful of handkerchiefs, each embroidered with initials that were certainly not Tasslehoff Burrfoot’s. Raistlin tucked his own back in his pouch, and tore up Sturm’s and Kitiara’s for bandages. “Don’t move.”

“Hurts.” He whimpered.

“Yes, that’s what you get when you put your hands in mousetraps.” Raistlin wrapped his fingers together, binding the broken fingers with the good so they would heal straight.

“Why did you have mousetraps in your pockets?” Tasslehoff turned betrayed eyes on Dalamar. “They’re _dangerous_ , you could get hurt!”

“I have mousetraps,” Dalamar said smoothly, “To catch _disgusting,”_ a step forwards, _“treacherous,”_ another step, _“filthy_ little rats.”

Tasslehoff shrank back in Tanis’ arms. Tanis paled, took a step back and for a moment Raistlin wondered if this ugly situation was going to get uglier- then Tanis swallowed, and tightened his grip on the wriggling Tas.

Tasslehoff looked up, eyes wet with tears as Raistlin finished off his hands and Tanis finally set him down. If nothing else, Dalamar had won Solace Vale’s eternal gratitude by making sure Tas wouldn’t be able to use his hands for weeks. “You have rats in your pockets?” He wavered.

“Sometimes they come _creeping up_.” Dalamar hissed, voice low and lethal “And _crawl_ in to make off with my things. Do you know what I do with them, kender?”

Eyes wide, Tasslehoff shook his head.

“I cut their heads off, of course.” Dalamar continued, smirking. “Their heads, their filthy tails, and then I stamp them,” he ground his heel into the earth, “until there’s nothing left.”

It was a mark of how much pain Tasslehoff was in that he didn’t say anything.

“Are you a revolting little rat, kender?”

Tas shook his head. Tanis looked at Raistlin, alarmed, Raistlin shook his head.

“Are you going to be digging through my pouches again?”

“Are there more of them?” Tasslehoff looked down at the discarded mousetraps.

Dalamar picked up the mousetraps, set them, and put them back in his pouches. Tasslehoff shuddered. “Don’t use your hands for two weeks.” Raistlin put in before things could degenerate further. “Or do, and they won’t heal right and you’ll never pick a lock again.”

Tasslehoff was pale with pain. He nodded wildly. “Go home Tas,” Tanis said softly, and Tasslehoff fled.

Dalamar was smirking, looking smug. “Thank you for not killing him.” Raistlin sighed.

Tanis blinked, looking at Dalamar with a mixture of fear and shock. Dalamar crossed his arms defensively, hunching in his robes and bristling in warning. Raistlin glanced at them, and took a breath. All those elven traits in Tanis. Traits of a race who would murder Dalamar as a point of honor. He stepped closer, between the two. Dalamar rested a hand on his shoulder, he was nervous too, and needed the contact.

Tanis blinked, stared at the two of them. “You know him?” It was harsh, almost accusing. His eyes darted again to Raistlin's neck, the raw bite mark.

“Go after the kender before he ruins his hands forever.” Raistlin snapped.

“Or don’t.” Dalamar sneered.

Tanis paused a moment, stared at Dalamar, and Raistlin for another moment then turned without another word, following Tasslehoff.

 “I don’t think much of your friends.” Dalamar remarked as Tanis disappeared.

“Caramon’s friends, not mine.” Raistlin sighed. “Was that strictly necessary?”

Dalamar was quiet for a long moment, looking fixedly at the ground. Raistlin kept silent, waiting for Dalamar to find the right words. “You live here.” Dalamar said finally, “A place where people- they may not like you, but they will extend you credit. They will not allow you to go hungry.”

Raistlin was about to argue, but- it was true. He let out his breath, said nothing.

“The kender is an- entertainment here.” Dalamar continued. “He can take from you, and when people find your items, they will be returned. He is an annoyance, no more.”

Raistlin nodded.

“It was not so in- in Tarsis.” Dalamar drew in a deep breath and- Gods, it was costing him a lot to say even that. “There was no loyalty. What you lost was gone for good, and what you lost might mean the difference between starving or living another-“ his voice wavered- “another winter.”

“Dalamar-“ Dalamar let him put a hand on his shoulder, but didn’t move.

“One day, we will be in a place where no one will care if we live or die.” He continued, eyes distant. “There will be kender. And your approach may not be enough.” He looked at Raistlin, “Nor will mousetraps.”

Raistlin thought of Tasslehoff. The kender had been a friend, such as he could be. But then, he had never owned anything he could not replace, never had needed money that would mean the difference between living and starving.

“He stood with us,” he said finally, “when a fanatic wanted to cast out my mother and I for being witches. He defended me when Theobald tried to attack me.” He lifted his hands, “You are right, but this kender is harmless.”

Dalamar’s mouth twisted and- it was more than just theft. There was something dark in his eyes, sick and hideous. Then he looked away and the moment was gone.

“Solace is not Tarsis.” Raistlin finished, and Dalamar nodded at last, giving a weary smile.

“It is not,” he agreed, and took his hand.

Raistlin walked him back to the garden, and his discarded books. Perhaps things were not quite as they had been before this morning, but they were a lot better, and Raistlin hoped everything would be back to normal soon.

 

* * *

 

 “A Dark elf?” Tanis said weakly.

Caramon nodded, looking at him pleadingly. Tasslehoff was sitting at the table, looking down at his bandaged hands with a lost expression. “I just wanted to say hello,” he mumbled. “I didn’t say I wanted mousetraps basically _thrown_ at me.”

“I tried to talk to Raist about it.” Caramon continued, “But he’s just- not listening to me anymore. I barely even _see_ him these days. Just staying with _him_ all the time.”

Tanis nodded, “And he is- he and the Dark elf are-“ He broke off, caught somewhere between horror and embarrassment.

Caramon went scarlet and tried to look anywhere but Tanis. He nodded. “I’ve tried to get him a girl, but it’s not working. I heard even Miranda was interested, and he said no!”

“I always wanted to meet a Dark elf.” Tasslehoff whined. “I don’t think I want to anymore.” He poked at his lockpicks hopelessly. “Raistlin’s got funny taste in men.”

“He doesn’t!” Caramon snapped, glowering at Tasslehoff as Flint came in. “He’s being duped, can’t you see that? He can’t! He’s love-blind and won’t see what the Dark elf is, he’s just being used and he’s going to get hurt-“

“He’s going to get his fingers in mousetraps too,” Tasslehoff agreed. Flint blinked between the three of them. Tanis shrugged helplessly.

Caramon ignored them, “It’s all wrong, I barely see Raist anymore and he needs me! He’s pretending he can’t but he does and it’s hurting him. He needs me there to look after him and I need him to do the thinking and now it’s all going _wrong!_ ”

Tanis winced. “Caramon,” he tried gently.

He didn’t seem to notice. “I just want it all to go back to normal.” He slumped back in his chair, deflated. “Just me and Raist, the way it should be. He’d see it too, but the Dark elf’s got him all mixed up.”

“Caramon,” Tanis repeated, and put his hand on his shoulder. “I wouldn’t want to stay around a Dark elf either. But Raistlin can make his own choices-“

“But he isn’t!” Caramon wailed. “The elf has him under some- sort of spell or something. He wouldn’t do this otherwise!”

Tanis took in a breath, “I know it looks that way,” He continued patiently, “But people do change and-“

“The Dark elf was in my workshop this morning.” Flint broke in, looking at Caramon thoughtfully. “He was looking for a ring, a ring he was trying to cast some sort of dark magic over.”

There was a moment’s silence. “You see!” Caramon’s eyes lit up in relief. “I told you, he’s enchanted! If we can just break the spell-“

“He’s got a dark magic ring?” Tasslehoff’s eyes lit up. “I’ll have a look at it, I can-“ he looked down at his hands. “Oh. Maybe in two weeks.”

“You’ll help?” Caramon turned pleading eyes on them. “Please, we have to stop him. It’s just going to get worse and Raist is going to be hurt and I can’t-“ he broke off. “I need him back,” he whispered.

Tanis took a breath, looking doubtful. “I know it might look that way, but we need to be very careful. If he isn’t enchanted-“

“But he is! Flint saw him!”

Flint nodded grimly. “Told him I wasn’t having it and threw him out, but he got the ring before I could stop him.”

Tanis paused, glanced back at the dwarf. “He left without paying? And you let him?”

Flint flushed. “Well, not exactly. He had some steel-“

“You sold him the ring?” Caramon stared, “Even though he was going to use it to curse Raistlin?”

“I didn’t know he was going to do that!” Flint scowled.

“But we’re going to stop him!” Tasslehoff piped up. “Raist would be so pleased knowing we saved him!” He bounced briefly, then stopped and winced in pain, "Come on Flint! Didn't you say that dwarves always look out for their kin? And Caramon's almost kin, isn't he? And Tanis, you'll help won't you? Caramon and Raistlin are our friends, you said you'd always help a friend."

Flint growled, angry at having his own words thrown back at him. "Fine! I didn't like the look of this Dalamar either, one thing you can trust even less than an elf is a Dark elf.”

Tanis sighed, “Even if Raistlin is enchanted, it’s clearly been going on for a while, so it can’t just be this ring. If we can’t find the spell the Dark elf is using, we need to convince Raistlin of what is going on.”

“I’ve tried.” Caramon groaned.

“Then we need to find evidence,” Tanis continued, reluctantly. “Something to prove this Dark elf has wrong intentions. The spells he’s using on him, or if we could prove he’s done something like this before-“

“Sounds like a plan,” Flint agreed.

Tasslehoff bounced again- a little too hard, he overbalanced and banged his hand on the table with a yelp of pain. Caramon smiled, looking relieved. “Thanks. We’ll make it all better. It’s going to work.”

The look on Tanis’ face suggested he was far from convinced.

 


	9. Day and Night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Raistlin has his birthday, Tanis and Dalamar meet properly and it goes as well as can be expected.

 

Raistlin woke alone for the first time in months. He stretched, enjoying the space and the freedom of his bed. It was colder though, and Raistlin opened his eyes, wondering where his bedmate was.

But Dalamar had not gone far. He was sitting at Raistlin’s desk, watching him with an amused smile. He was fully dressed and seemed to have been awake for some time. Raistlin sat up. “What is this?”

“For you.” Dalamar smiled, indicated the empty  pillow.

Raistlin looked down. Resting on the pillow was a single ring, wrought ofcopper and vallenwood. It was beautiful, and Raistlin couldn’t contain a childish grin. After all his worrying about what he would find to give Dalamar, his own gift turned out to be so - simple. Yet it was hard to imagine anything that would make him happier, short of a full spellbook. A tangible reminder of what they had, to hold forever. “This is Flint’s work, isn’t it?”

“It is,” Dalamar smiled. He looked tired, hair mussed and eyes shadowed. “I am no metalsmith, but I have my own skills.”

“Of course.” Raistlin reached down, and picked up the ring.

It tingled between his fingers, vibrated very slightly as though the wood remembered the tree it had once been, moving in the wind. Raistlin held it up, running his fingers over the wood, and the magic breathed, caught within. “You made this.” He breathed.

“I did.” Dalamar stretched and- Gods, no wonder he was so tired. He’d been up all night- and probably more than just one night. Raistlin had never seen anything that had been enchanted before, and now this one was his. “One of the few things I was allowed to learn... before.” Dalamar came to sit beside him, stroking a hand over his leg.

Raistlin turned the ring over. Pale golden wood, dark copper, tiny blue stones set in the twisting metal vines. Raistlin tried the ring on and it fit perfectly, blended perfectly with his skin. Raistlin frowned, and held it up to his hair and compared it to the copper. Skin, hair, and blue stones for his eyes. “You tied this to me.”

“Hmm- hmm.” Dalamar agreed, leaning back against the wall, eyes closed. “For your day of Life Gift. And what does it do?”

Raistlin turned the ring around his finger, he could feel his own magic filling it, making it a part of him. Raistlin closed his eyes and reached in, tasting the magic Dalamar had wound around it. It felt warm within his mind, warm as being wrapped in blankets. “Some protective spell.” He said softly opening his eyes, “A shielding spell for my- thoughts?”

“Well done,” Dalamar nodded, slitted his eyes open and smiled at him. “You’re good at guarding your mind,” he continued, “The ring will stop anyone from trying to cheat.”

“Ah,” Raistlin ran his fingewrs over the butter-smooth wood, the little irregularities of stone and vines. It felt- strange. No one in Solace had anything like this, even Theobald. Probably there wasn’t anything like this from here to Haven. And Dalamar had made it for him. The robes would be ready in a few weeks, but they seemed pathetically small in comparison-

Then he looked up at Dalamar in his worn, threadbare robes, more grey than black, and felt the fear shrivel away. No, they weren’t enchanted, not like this, but they would see off the winter cold, all the same. Raistlin smiled. “Thank you.” He rested his hand on Dalamar’s thigh.

“You like it?” And oh, Raistlin knew that expression, in Dalamar’s eyes. Exactly the same as he felt himself. He’d been afraid Raistlin wouldn’t like it, had been afraid he had been inadequate.

“I do,” Raistlin drew Dalamar’s head down. Dalamar sighed and rolled over to lie beside him, eyes closing. He was warm, and even though the bed was rather cramped, it was much better than being alone. “We are much the same, sometimes,” he murmured.

Dalamar didn’t answer, he was asleep.

 

* * *

 

Raistlin found the note later that morning, tucked under the mat. He picked it up and felt his stomach sink. This felt very wrong.

Dalamar was busy with the tea, Caramon toasting the bread, and both of them pointedly ignoring each other. Dalamar glanced up and frowned, seeing his expression.

Raistlin glanced at Caramon, but he was staring morosely into the fire, the toast starting to smoke. “There’s a note from Tanis, he wants you to clear his home of wood beetles.”

Dalamar puts the mugs of tea down stiffly. “I see.”

“Tanis wants to see you?” Caramon tried to pick off the toast, and yelped. It was burned nearly black.

“Do you want me to come with you?” Raistlin asked softly.

Dalamar glanced at the note, then nodded slowly. It would be unlike Tanis for him to be planning anything violent- but Dalamar had hurt Tasslehoff, which Tanis would not be happy about, and Kitiara would certainly be in favor of hurting Dalamar.

And he was half an elf. Gods, there was so much Raistlin didn’t understand there. He had always thought elves were much like humans, and for the most part that was right, but there were these moments he just- couldn’t understand. And, irritatingly, he suspected he never really would.

Dalamar’s shoulders were tight as he looked down at his mug. Raistlin sat beside him and sipped his tea in an attempt to find something to say. He doubted Tanis had only called Dalamar to get rid of the wood beetles. “He may simply be curious,” he tried.

Dalamar’s shrug, sharp and brief, suggested that being a freak show wasn’t much better than being attacked. Caramon slumped down in his chair and dropped a stack of half-burnt toast on the table. Raistlin grimaced at the smoking mess. “I see why you eat so little.” Dalamar murmured.

Caramon scowled. “You cook them then.” He’d been in a foul mood for days, probably since Miranda had finally settled on someone to marry.

Dalamar glanced at him and Raistlin shook his head. “I’m not hungry.” But it was a fight not to smile, seeing Dalamar and Caramon scowling at each other- over him.

“Then we can go now.” Dalamar finished his tea. Raistlin stood, drank the last from his mug, felt his heart beat faster as they walked out of the house. He didn’t think Tanis would try and attack Dalamar, but the cold, drawing tension in his shoulders reminded him that if he was wrong, Dalamar would be facing a trained swordsman with nothing but a few spells and his dagger, and Raistlin wasn’t sure how much he would be able to help. He had no idea how to react in a fight.

Dalamar paused on the walkway, looked at him ruefully. “Which way is it?”

“Up here.”

The morning light helped. It was already warm, even so early in the day, and Raistlin started to relax despite himself. His fears seemed- absurd, under the dappled light streaming through the trees. Dalamar was walking with his head down, still lost in dark thoughts. Raistlin put a hand on his shoulder and Dalamar glanced at him wearily, relaxing a little into his touch.

“He can’t do anything.” Raistlin said firmly, trying for that commanding tone that somehow seemed to work. It got a smile from Dalamar, so Raistlin considered it another success.

“Always so certain,” he murmured.

“He can’t.” Raistlin repeated. Tanis’ door was bright yellow in the morning light, shining innocuously. Raistlin took a deep breath, and knocked.

The door opened almost instantly. Raistlin jumped. So did Tanis, blinking at him in confusion. “I thought-“ then he saw Dalamar. “Oh, him.” He didn’t sound happy about it.

“You left the note.” Dalamar snapped.

“Yes, I-“ Tanis rubbed his face. “Right, the wood beetles. The back wall is rotten with them. If you can get rid of them I can patch up the holes.”

Dalamar paused, looking at Raistlin. Raistlin met his gaze and gave a small shrug. Maybe Tanis really did just want him to get rid of the wood beetles? Tanis stepped out of the way, and waved Dalamar inside. “Are you coming in, too?” he asked Raistlin.

Dalamar shook his head very slightly. “No,” Raistlin stepped closer, “You’ll be fine.” It was as much a statement as a question. Dalamar nodded and smiled, closing his eyes as Raistlin reached up and tilted his head down, kissing him firmly.

Tanis was pretending this wasn’t happening, staring off into distance. Raistlin scowled, “You do worse with my sister,” he snapped.

Half-Elven still didn’t look at him, but was now red to his slightly-pointed ears. Dalamar smiled and kissed him again, “I will see you later.” He stroked Raistlin’s hand, trailed over the ring on his finger.

Tanis was looking at them now, “What’s that?”

He was staring at Raistlin’s ring. Raistlin felt a flush of pleasure at the attention, the urge to preen. “Dalamar gave it to me.” He smirked.

“Why?” Tanis’ eyes were narrowed in suspicion.

Raistlin rolled his. “It’s my Day of Life Gift.”

“I thought it was Caramon-“ he broke off, he didn’t need to finish. He’d remembered Caramon’s, had forgotten Raistlin’s.

“Yes,” Raistlin growled, “because we are twins.” He turned to Dalamar, who was shaking his head helplessly. “I’ll see you after work.” He kissed him again firmly. “We will be having a small celebration tonight.”

 

* * *

 

Tanis stood aside to let Dalamar through. Dalamar felt the back of his neck itch as the man’s eyes bored into him. “Over there,” he said absently.

Dalamar met his gaze, scrutinizing the Half-elf in turn. He was about Raistlin’s height, a head shorter than Dalamar, but with the solid bulk that seemed so popular here. If this was about to turn violent, Dalamar would have to be fast and get out of the way before Tanis could close and pin him. At least there didn’t seem to be any weapons nearby.

And Half-Elven didn’t appear to be about to attack. His arms were crossed and he stared at Dalamar as though wondering what to make of him. Half-elf. Dalamar could see the elven traits in his eyes, his pointed ears, but the rest of him was human. Hopefully human enough to leave him alone.

Dalamar forced himself to turn away. The wall Tanis had indicated had a slight dusting of wood powder, and when he touched it, parts crumbled. Small black beetles crawled over his fingers.

Dalamar felt himself start to relax. It was real then, not a ploy to get him on his own. He knelt down, and traced a pattern across the wood, “ _Mereka Ayun.”_ He murmured, and gave a low whistle. The beetles raced away through the cracks in the wood. Dalamar nodded, and pulled out the chalk to mark out a ward against them returning.

“Will this take long?” The words cut through the warm trance of casting like a cold gale.

Dalamar started and dropped the chalk, gritted his teeth. “It will take as long as it takes, and longer _with interruptions_.”

Half-Elven was quiet, and Dalamar took a breath, settling himself back into the magic. He chalked the ward, and moved to the next part of the wall.

“How long have you been here?”

This time, Dalamar kept his grip on the chalk. “If you wish me to ward your house, you will leave me to work.”

“You can’t talk when you work?” Half-Elven was trying to look relaxed, leaning against the wall.

“I am casting magic, so no.” Dalamar snarled before he could stop himself. He closed his eyes and tried to center himself, he was going to get money from this, he couldn’t afford to snap.

“You came from Silvanesti.” So that was it. That was what he wanted. He'd hoped Kitiara had given up her interest in him, after the conversation they had overhead, but apparently not. This had her fingerprints all over it.

“Magic is one steel piece per day.” Dalamar growled, “Questions are ten.”

“Why were you exiled?” Tanis was frowning fiercely, as though trying to stare through Dalamar and see the answers inside him.

Dalamar got up stiffly, tucked his chalk away and walked out, his head pounding. Enough. Half-Elven’s stare was like fingers digging in behind his eyes, trying to gouge out the answers. Blunt force where Kitiara was a knife, Raistlin a silk hand. And even Raistlin hadn’t pried there, had waited and earned his answers.

The Half elf straightened as Dalamar stalked out. “You haven’t finished-“

“I’m done.” Dalamar’s lips drew back in what must be a ghastly smile. “Enjoy your beetles.”

“Wait!” Half-Elven closed the door as Dalamar started to open it.

It slammed shut with a sharp, resounding crack. Dalamar took a step back. His breath caught, his hands fell to his components pouch and he felt his heartbeat pick up, readying for the fight.

“Wait-“ Half-Elven raised a hand to forestall him. “I just had some questions-“

“And what,” Dalamar drew in a breath, adrenaline burning through him, “does that have to do with me?”

“You came here, and people need to know what to expect from you.” His voice was steady, digging, dredging.

Dalamar gritted his teeth, “And who are you?” He fought not to huddle in his robes, straightened his spine, threw his shoulders back. Dalamar would not be ashamed. “The head of this town? The leader of the guard?” It was mocking, laughter he did not feel at all.

“A friend of Raistlin’s.”

Dalamar gave a bark of laughter. “Such a good friend! I suppose you forget all your friends’ Day of Life Gifts?” It shut him up, his face flushed a little. “I daresay you remember his sister’s, though, do you not?” Half-Elven frowned, confused. Was he such a fool that he did not see how Kitiara was using him to get her answers? “I came here when Raistlin invited me. If you have any arguments with his decision then please, take it up with him. I’m sure he’ll be delighted.”

Half-Elven mouth thinned until it almost vanished. He gave a stiff nod.

“Either I leave and you stay here with your beetles.” Dalamar continued, “Or you leave, and I finish my work and your house might still be standing next month.”

Half-Elven held his gaze for another moment, then glanced at the wall, and turned to leave. “And it will be three steel pieces. Paid in advance.”

“I thought it was one,” Half-Elven put his hand on his belt pouch.

“Next time, let me work without questions.” Dalamar held out his hand. Reckless, but he hardly cared, he’d never set foot in here again.

Just as well, Half-Elven grimaced as though he’d be glad never to _see_ Dalamar again, and slammed three steel onto his palm before turning and leaving.

Breathe in. Breathe out. The air felt stale. Dalamar waited until Half-Elven’s footsteps had faded, and turned back to the wall. He felt a little sorry to be turning the beetles out of their home; Nuitari knew they were the most pleasant inhabitants here.

 

* * *

 

Dalamar looked frazzled when he sidled into the Inn, but it was still a relief to see him. Caramon was wavering between forced joviality and despondent mawkishness and it was difficult to say which was more irritating.

“Why did he give you that?” Caramon scowled at the ring as Raistlin took refuge behind a wine glass and waved for Dalamar to join them.

“It was a gift,” Raistlin took a sip, while he didn’t mind the attention- why was everyone commenting on the ring? Even Tasslehoff had gaped and point at it excitedly. “Don’t be worried, I am not the one getting married just yet.”

Caramon let out a long, pained groan, and slumped across the table. “I need another,” Caramon looked into his empty glass. “She just _married_ him, she barely knows him and she just married him and she broke my heart.”

“Yes,” Raistlin met Dalamar’s eyes pleadingly, and got a smile in return, the Dark elf motioned for him to come over.

“I just want to know _why_ ,” Caramon whined as Dezra filled his tankard.

Raistlin could have given him a number of very good reasons why Miranda might have rushed into a marriage. The three little visits, first to Meggin, then to himself, in search of progressively stronger doses of tansy might have had something to do with it. Whoever’s child it was, it would not be denied. Good luck to both of them; at least she'd waved the second fee for his robes in exchange for the medicine. Raistlin rose and made his way over to Dalamar, ignoring his brother’s protests.

“Is your sister here?” Dalamar said bluntly, taking Raistlin by the arm.

Raistlin led him back to their table, glancing over at Kitiara, she and Tanis were rather- engaged - in the window seat. Dalamar followed his eyes, nodded- “Good,” and pulled him down into the seat. “She has gotten Half-Elven involved in her prying. That was why he wanted to see me.”

“I thought she’d given up with you.” Raistlin frowned; Gods, they did not need Kitiara sniffing around.

“Apparently not.” Dalamar leant back in his chair and closed his eyes. “Half-Elven was very intent on trying to pry anything he could get out of me.”

Raistlin sighed, glanced back to where both Tanis and his sister were rapidly losing their clothes. “We will simply have to avoid them.” He motioned to Dezra for another glass of wine.

Caramon jerked his head up and gave Dalamar a long, reproach filled glower as he almost fell into his tankard. “I’m watching you,” he growled, pointing at the Dark elf. “You try anything-“ he wavered, and nearly toppled off his stool.

Raistlin bit his lip, trying not to laugh. Dalamar shook his head, and didn’t even dignify that with a response. Caramon dropped his head on the table, closed his eyes, and started to snore.

“I appreciate his care for your well-being,” Dalamar said dryly, “no matter how misplaced.”

Raistlin remembered Caramon’s face on the bridge, all those weeks ago. The dark, angry presence that had nothing to do with concern. The jealousy that Raistlin had only ever seen behind his own eyes. Looking at his brother now, fast asleep and drooling on the table, it seemed hard to believe they were the same people. “I doubt that will be worth much,” was all Raistlin said.

“Better than your sister.” Dalamar smiled.

As though summoned by being mentioned, Kitiara stood up, buttoning her shirt and laughing. “Tonight’s celebration is on me! I’m paying for everything!” And tossed three steel on the table.

Quick as a blade, Raistlin snapped and hand out and snared one. It was sharp under his hand, newly minted. “Not made in Haven,” he murmured to Dalamar, and passed the coin to him.

Dalamar nodded, “Sanction.”

Kitiara scowled, eyes narrowed. “Tanis might be a soft touch, but you’re not getting my steel.” She snatched it back.

Tanis blinked at Kitiara, “Sanction? How did-“

Leaving the two of them, Raistlin sat back, settling into the shadows of the wall. “You saw that?”

“I never expected to see it again.” Dalamar closed his eyes from a moment, mouth twisting in mockery. _“From the might of the Dragon Queen, protect us, oh E’li!_ ”

The words were sweet, musical in their grace. Raistlin could read Elvish, had rarely heard it spoken and never so beautifully. It took him a moment to replay those words and parse out the meaning. “The Dragon Queen,” he repeated, “Takhisis.” Another old God; it sent a shiver down his spine. “And E’li-“

“Paladine,” Dalamar put in, “Not that he ever answered.” He followed Kitiara with his eyes. "I wonder if this God answers her?”

“Not one I would have anything to do with,” Raistlin said dryly. “Is this what that man was referring to, when he asked her about dragons?”

“Possibly,” Dalamar frowned, “Well, I hope they have as much luck with this God as the elves have with theirs; they have been calling on E’li for three hundred years, and have heard nothing.”

“Calling on, or shouting at?” Raistlin asked curiously.

Dalamar shrugged, “It hardly matters. The border woods burned and hundreds died after the Cataclysm. Do the Gods really care if everyone says their pleases and thank yous?” There was a bitterness there, an anger. Raistlin touched his hand.

Dalamar looked down and sighed. “I watched prayers and pleas, every morning and night, every day. No one answered. Plague, injury, war- nothing. At least Nuitari makes no promises He can break.” He paused and rubbed his face.

“And this one?” Raistlin said after a moment. “The Dragon Queen?”

“I don’t know.” He smiled wearily, “but anything is better than silence.”


	10. Interlude: Night Dreams 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's Dalamar's turn to have a nightmare.

Raistlin wasn't sure what brought him back to consciousness at first. It was the middle of the night and the bedroom was as dark as pitch; the sky outside black, shadowed as Nuitari passed over the stars. He sat up, feeling strangely cold.

Dalamar had rolled away from him sometime during the night and now lay huddled on the far side of the bed.

He was trembling.

Raistlin reached over and touched the elf's shoulder. His muscles were taut and he started as if the simple touch had been a blow.

"Dalamar?" Raistlin whispered.

The Dark elf was curled up, hugging his knees. Raistlin gently rubbed his shoulders until he felt him begin to relax. "Do you remember," Dalamar's voice was slightly hoarse "what I asked you to do the first night you woke from a nightmare?"

"Yes." Raistlin smiled, glad to have a chance to return Dalamar’s gentleness. "You asked me to comfort you when you woke up shaking."

Dalamar rolled on to his back and sighed, a tiny smile on his face, "Please."

Raistlin slid an arm around Dalamar and pulled him close, the Dark elf's head against his shoulder, arms reaching to return the embrace. He was still shaking. It felt somewhat strange to hold anyone like this, even Dalamar; or maybe especially Dalamar, who kept himself so closed up against vulnerability. And yet, he was here now, letting Raistlin hold him. Raistlin rubbed Dalamar's shoulders until he calmed down, then stroked his hair gently.

Dalamar sighed, then yawned. "Thank you."

"Do you remember your dream?" Raistlin settled down beside him, “I can never remember mine.”

“Yes,” Dalamar said after a moment. “You are luckier, I think.”

Raistlin paused, “What did you see? Was it Tarsis?”

Dalamar didn’t open his eyes. “Sometimes it’s Tarsis.”

“And this time?” Raistlin coaxed, stroking his back. There was so much he didn’t know, and if Dalamar could help him understand-

But not tonight. "I’m a Black robe,” Dalamar snapped, irritated, “I have more than enough things haunting me.”

“You know you can trust me," Raistlin breathed, “if it would help.”

"I would prefer to forget.” Dalamar sighed, lifted his face from where he'd been using Raistlin's chest as a pillow. "I need to get through some things by myself."

Raistlin sighed. "Fine. Sleep well."

Silence, then a warm kiss. Raistlin smiled, feeling the tension fade. He closed his eyes.

“I am sorry.” So soft, he only just heard it. "I really cannot tell anyone."

"Even me?" Raistlin murmured.

"Even you.” A deep breath. “Please Raistlin, enough. It's finished and can't come back."

"Just in nightmares." Raistlin stroked his hair. “I could guard you, if I knew what I am guarding you from.”

"Hmm." Dalamar smiled. “No. They will not be back, not tonight anyway. Sleep well." 

“I certainly will.” Raistlin tried to roll his eyes, but he was too tired, he let them slip closed. “Wake me if you need comfort from your ghosts.”

“I will. Thank you.”


	11. Endings and Beginnings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Raistlin has had enough of Theobald. Dalamar gets his gift, and the two plan their heist.

 

The students were  loud and unruly today, eager and impatient for the class to end, to escape the stifling room and get out into the blazing summer day. Raistlin tried to control the class for three minutes before handing it over to the purple faced Theobald and taking refuge in the library. He listened for a few moments to the screams and cracks of the cane, before creeping carefully down to Theobald’s private door.

They could scratch away the runes of the mage lock, but it would take some work. The actual lock he could pick. Then there was the trapdoor. He had never managed to get that far before, but maybe, with two of them-

Even apart from  the books and knowledge hidden inside, he suspected Dalamar would enjoy this.

The stamping outside made him jump back, huddling quickly at the desk and bending over spells he had mastered years ago. Theobald barged in and scowled at him; Raistlin looked up and gave him the mildest look he could manage. The older mage ground his teeth and marched off to get a fresh switch.

Raistlin turned and glanced back to check he had gone, then flicked forward in his spellbook. There were a few new spells there now, one that threw magical darts, another that sent out a black lash of lightning. Dalamar had shown him the last one yesterday, one of the survivors from the dark spellbooks he had managed to hide a few pages of. Just a few pages, of four books of magic now burnt to ash. The thought of it turned Raistlin’s stomach. Gods, what in the Abyss were the Silvanesti _thinking_?

Raistlin read over the spell. He hadn’t quite managed it the day before. It had lashed a staff to ash when Dalamar had cast it, and had simply shocked Raistlin’s hand when he had tried.

“Halilintar,” Raistlin murmured, tested the words, “ular ke ast.” Even without intonation, the black sparks branched between his fingers. He smiled, and glanced around for a moment, before his eyes rested on the broken handle of a broom. He drew in a breath, _“Halilintar ular ke ast_.”

The lightning flared out from his hands, looped around the handle, and snatched it towards him. It wasn't quite right, the sparks spitting at him, the wood blackening, but not falling to ash as it should. Still it was better than his last attempt, and Raistlin grinned, the magic felt- incredible; warm and vivid, coursing through him like sparks through his blood.

“Where did you learn that?” Oh Gods.

Raistlin closed his eyes, and felt the magic drain from him, leaving him cold and empty. Opened his eyes and scowled at Theobald. “That hardly matters.”

“I did not teach you that. Where did you find that spell?” Theobald was pale, his hand white-knuckled on his cane.

“There are three mages in this town.” Although Theobald hardly counted. “Clearly it wasn’t from you.”

“I heard stories of you and that Dark elf.” His face was starting to flush, and Raistlin tensed. “I did not know how much to believe, but if you are practicing black magic-“

“What does that even mean?” Raistlin snapped, a spark of rage biting his throat. “Magic is magic.”

“Listen, you young fool.” Theobald prowled over, switched clenched in his fist. Raistlin tensed, fingers curling on his spellbook. “I’ve held my tongue this long on this subject, but I owe it to your sponsor to inform him of what you’ve been dabbling in.”

Raistlin sneered, “You mean he hasn’t been reading all those reports? Those you repeatedly inform me you are writing?”

Theobald flushed an ugly puce. “My reports are none of your business, _pupil_ , but Antimodes will be travelling this way to receive my communications. When he hears about your behavior these past few months-“ He trailed off ominously.

Raistlin gritted his teeth against the flash of fear in his stomach. “This is not Silvanesti.” Although he was wondering how Dalamar had put up with anything approaching this without going mad. “We study magic, and leave the wailing over darkness and light for idiots who skulk inside their woods and _burn_ spellbooks.” He almost shouted the last, fire lighting in his stomach.

“You are playing in some very dangerous places, _boy_.” Theobald lifted his switch warningly, and Raistlin drew his hands up, the words of the spell still sharp on his tongue, waiting in his bones. “You’ll burn yourself before too long.”

“Better than sitting in a cellar and screaming at children-“ Raistlin managed to dart out of the way when the switch came down, cracking like a thunderbolt on the desk. Then, as Theobald drew his hand back to lash him, Raistlin threw a hand out- “ _Halilintar ular ke ast!”_

The bolt flashed out, coiled around the switch, and tore it out of Theobald’s hand. The wood crumbled to ash in moments, a line of grey dust falling to the floor. Raistlin caught his breath, the magic dancing between his fingers, burning in his throat. “Better.” He repeated.

Theobald was white from rage and fear. “Get out.” He whispered.

“Gladly.” Raistlin tucked his spellbook under his arm. “Give your pupils my best.”

The door slammed behind him. Raistlin stormed away, fueled by so much fire and righteous rage that he marched for ten minutes before finally collapsing on a vallenwood root, trying to catch his breath.

Well. That was the end of that. And good riddance, really. Theobald’s payments were  patchy and hardly enough to pay for anything, even when they came. He would simply have to take more work as a healer, perhaps try to make some money at the fair this summer.

Raistlin got up, his robes stuck to his back where he’d almost sweated through them. He glanced back once at the schoolhouse, then turned away. He’d be back, he smiled; at night, with Dalamar, when Theobald had drunk himself to sleep and the boys had gone.

He spotted Dalamar in the gardens, kneeling down and chalking wards on the fences and gateposts. He didn’t look up as Raistlin came over, murmuring a spell Raistlin didn’t quite catch. But the magic blazed up, blue and brighter than Raistlin had seen before. He could taste it from here, strange and sweet and whispering of darkness, of secrets and the black moon.

Oh. Raistlin waited outside the garden, not wanting to interrupt. Dalamar kept his eyes closed for a long moment, then looked up, smiling gently at Raistlin. “You are back early.”

“Theobald took issue with my practicing your spells.” Raistlin stepped inside. “It will be less trouble to steal his books if I no longer work for him.”

Dalamar nodded, “He is a pathetic specimen. Good riddance to him. But what of your sponsor?”

Raistlin drew in a breath. Antimodes was a true mage, rather than Theobald’s sad parody. “I doubt he will be pleased.” Raistlin said finally, “He is a white robe, after all. But what can he do? We will be leaving soon, anyway, to make our own way in the world.”

“And in the magic.” Dalamar murmured. The spell still flickered between his hands, and his eyes were distant, half-lost in his own power.

“Yes.” Raistlin settled beside him, stroked his shoulder, “And Nuitari is in High Sanction, is it not? I can see it in your spellwork.”

Dalamar smiled, leant against him. “My Day of Life Gift,” he agreed. “Do you have a surprise for me?”

“Of course.” He got a kiss. “This evening, by the lake; where we went for Spring festival.” Thanks to Theobald, having the rest of the day to himself would give him time to prepare.

“I’ll be there,” Dalamar nuzzled him, “Shall I bring anything?”

“Just yourself.” Raistlin plucked at Dalamar’s old robes. They were worn through at the collar and cuffs, more shades of grey than true black and stained at the knees with mud and grass. “You can leave _those_ at home.”

Dalamar laughed and pushed him gently, “I believe I know what your gift will be! Go, and leave your robes at home too.”

Raistlin walked away, smiling.

 

* * *

 

 

Dalamar got the payment for his work in the garden plot that evening. The woman didn’t look at him when she tossed the coins on the inn table, and made a quick sign against evil when he scooped them up. Dalamar jerked his head in acknowledgement and turned away before he was accused of cursing something.

One steel, four copper. Dalamar had never made so much money. Not in Tarsis, no matter how hard he had worked, and he had never been paid at all in Silvanesti. A small stash, but growing. In time, it would be enough for them to go; to leave this town that was starting to feel smaller day after day, and see what they could find beyond the horizon.

He paused at the bar. Raistlin had said only to bring himself, but a small token might be appreciated. Otik glanced up as Dalamar placed a small pile of copper coins on the counter. “Wine, a bottle for tonight.”

“Caramon’s not going to be coming crashing in here looking for Raistlin, is he?” Otik said dryly, placing the bottle on the table.

“If he does, we won’t be anywhere near here.” Dalamar smirked, and tucked it under his arm.

The sun was going down when he left the inn, and it would be full night before he would reach the lake. It gave Dalamar perhaps a little too long to wonder what would be awaiting for him there.  A Day of Life Gift. If they had been celebrated in Silvanesti, the tradition had never reached as far as House Servitor. All Dalamar had was a very vague, uncertain memory of a supervisor telling him he had turned fifteen years old last week and should start working in the kitchens. The rains had just come, allowing him to place the month, more than seventy years ago.

Not a most joyful memory, Dalamar’s lip curled. Then again, he wondered how many happy Days of Life Gift Raistlin had enjoyed in the past. This last  one, at least, and hopefully many more to come. Dalamar was quite willing to make sure of that.

The sun vanished behind the mountains, the light cutting out so quickly it still surprised him. Solinari was just above the trees, Lunitari not up yet. Dalamar felt his eyes shift, taking in the thin light.

And Nuitari, riding high above, a whorl of black light.  High Sanction, the fierce power of his patron running under his skin, sparking in his magic.

Raistlin was waiting for him, just at the foot of the walkway. He smiled, and stepped closer and oh, he fit so well in Dalamar’s arms. So warm, his face pressing into Dalamar’s shoulder, the scent of his long auburn hair.

“I thought I told you to leave those off,” Raistlin murmured, pulling at his robes.

“I thought you promised me a gift.” Dalamar caught him with a kiss, then dropped down to mouth at the soft skin of his neck. He tasted of roses and mint- he must have been working in the garden this afternoon.

“It’s waiting for you back here.” Raistlin caught his wrist, and pulled away, rubbing the damp bite mark.

He- actually had something for him? Dalamar felt the sudden bite of panic in his chest, he had never received anything he had not chosen himself, wasn’t sure how he felt about it. What would happen if he did not like it? What would he say to Raistlin to keep it from ruining-

Then they reached the clearing, the flat stone cutting out from the shore and into the lake, and Dalamar’s thoughts went- flat. Raistlin climbed onto the stones to the small bundle that would probably be their supper but Dalamar didn’t really take it in. He climbed up, and knelt down by the neatly folded pile of cloth.

It was only closer to that he could see the different textures in the cloth. More than one, the only part of Dalamar’s brain not slack with shock realized. He picked up the first folds, and felt soft, finely woven linen.

“I took your measurements when you were sleeping.” Raistlin’s smile was a little shy, uncertain. Dalamar wanted to say something but- couldn’t. He’d had no robes but these- his Servitor robes, dyed black when they had been thrown at him on the outskirts of Silvanesti. Old even before he had been exiled.

There was a _second_ set beneath the first, the same linen weave. It fell from his hands, rich and long enough to reach his boots when worn and Nuitari- there was a third set under that.

“Do you like it?” Raistlin’s voice was more tentative. He should say something, but Dalamar couldn’t quite manage it because this third set was wool. Thick and heavy, scratchy but- that was what the first two were for. And warm. So warm in the summer night, it was almost too much even to look at. But- in winter. Gods, in winter. The weave so close it would cut out the wind, the cloth would see away snow and even rain-

“Dalamar?” So very gentle, his young lover; sliding his hands within Dalamar’s chest and cupping his heart. It was terrifying and humbling and he- couldn’t imagine what to say. That Raistlin had seen him and realised just what it would mean to be given this. The silent promise _I will not let you be cold again_.

His hands were knotted into his old robes, so tightly they were probably tearing. He didn’t care. Why should he care? They could go into the lake right now, and good riddance. Stained and torn from his work here, and the even fouler work in Tarsis. Dyed black in hatred to serve as a shroud, and only given to him to begin with as a mockery of what a Servitor elf could never be-

He was in Raistlin’s arms. The young mage was murmuring something vague and unheard, stroking his back and hair as he shuddered. His face was damp, buried in the folds of Raistlin’s own robes. “Can you hear me now?” Raistlin whispered.

Dalamar drew a wet, shuddering breath, and nodded into Raistlin’s chest.

“Are you feeling better?”

No. Yes. Not really. Dalamar didn’t know. It felt like something had torn open inside him, but it was something- sick, filled with pus and disease and he was finally free of it, despite the pain. He shrugged.

“Do you want to try them on?” Very soft.

Yes. _Yes_. Nuitari, please. Dalamar pulled the ancient robes off so roughly he felt the tattered stitches pop. Raistlin smiled, and helped draw the new set over his shoulders. The fabric felt stiff, the cloth new and raw against his skin but dear Nuitari, it was good. He let Raistlin help him with the sleeves and looked down at his hands, pale against the cuffs of deep black, rather than the faded off-grey he was used to.

He closed the brief space between him and Raistlin, and caught his mouth in his. A bright, vibrant kiss that stole his breath away.

Raistlin was panting too, eyes dilated and hungry. “You liked them, then?”

“Thank you.” Dalamar whispered, and kissed him again. Laughter caught in his throat, “Was this what you went to the tailor’s shop for?”

“I hope it was worth it,” Raistlin chuckled into his mouth. “I am not planning to go anywhere near them again.” He stroked Dalamar’s cheek, down to his chin. “You will be warm, this winter.”

There wasn’t anything Dalamar could say. “I love you.” He breathed. He pushed Raistlin’s hands away, left his robes unfastened, and pulled Raistlin closer, Raistlin reached for his own robes, undoing the ties until their bodies pressed together skin to skin. Another kiss; opened mouthed and drowning, breathing in his lover, drawing him down and sinking deeper himself-

Raistlin settled in on top of him, cock hard against Dalamar’s stomach, and rocking against him. Dalamar caught his breath hungrily, and dragged him back in again and again. The taste of him, the heat of him, slickness of their mouths and the breathing warmth of their breath-

Drowning. And let them never come up again.

“Yes.” Raistlin murmured, as though he agreed with Dalamar’s thoughts, and arched in against him. His face was flushed in Nuitari’s light, eyes flickering closed and groaning when Dalamar closed his hands around both their cocks, and started working them together. “Gods-“ He choked, and tried to reach for his pouches- probably to dig out the oil-

“No-“ He wouldn’t last that long. He didn’t want to. Just like this, hard and rough and hungry under the black moon. The sacrifice of their pleasure on this altar, Nuitari’s blessing glimmering on Raistlin’s skin. Dalamar’s eyes closed, his head rolled back as Raistlin’s hand joined his and they moved together. “Love you.” He choked again. Rutting together, desperate and ravenous and- yes. Yes.

“I- love you too.” There was something laughing in Raistlin’s voice, caught up in their pleasure. “I- oh yes. Harder, I-“ he choked off, shuddering, and came a heartbeat before Dalamar reached his edge. Pleasure rolling through him like the sea, cresting as he came with sweet, shuddering pleasure in their joined hands.

Raistlin muttered something half hearted about the mess as he slumped down beside him. Dalamar didn’t pay attention, and drew him in anyway, smearing the release left on their hands and stomach, licked the saliva still on his lips. Good. All of it good.

“I did bring food,” Raistlin murmured into his shoulder, "And I thought we might try for Theobald’s spellbooks later.”

There was a sweet moment of tension, the thorough satisfaction of this moment warring with the hunger for magic. The battle between such uniquely beloved subjects. “When should we go?" He opened his eyes, looking up into the devouring light of Nuitari.

“Not for a while,” Raistlin assured him, and eased the battle between sexual satisfaction and magic. “Not until Lunitari rises, at least.”

Dalamar closed his eyes again, relaxing into this moment. Nothing but this long, endless now. The only time he had or wanted.


	12. Night and Morning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Raistlin and Dalamar go looking for magic. Flint hurts his leg, and it all ends in shouting.

 

Lunitari was lurking just below the mountains, a thin curve of scarlet winking like a knowing eye as they made their way through the trees towards the schoolhouse. Raistlin let Dalamar draw a little ahead. He had been to the building before, and his eyes would be better at picking out any movement inside.

The lights were off when they approached, but Dalamar slowed his pace anyway, his walk shifting to a soundless, careful tread over the grass and dead leaves. Raistlin followed his lead, tried to put his feet into Dalamar’s footprints.

“Anyone?” Raistlin breathed.

Dalamar said nothing, crouched and peered carefully into one of the windows, blinking again and again. Raistlin pressed close beside him. Dalamar was almost invisible in his new robes, but Raistlin was close enough tosee how Dalamar’s eyes changed in the half light, pupils widening and nearly swallowing the irises. He shook his head very slightly and let Raistlin pull ahead, rounding the corner of the house to the back door, which was never locked.

It was, in fact, slightly open. Dalamar sidled around and peered in, then backed away. “There’s a woman asleep in there.” He mouthed, almost soundless.

Raistlin nodded, “Marn, the housekeeper. The building could fall down and she wouldn’t wake. She won’t be a problem.”

Dalamar nodded briefly, and slid his fingers into the open crack, gently working it open. It managed just over a foot then stuck. Dalamar drew in his breath, and slipped inside. Raistlin darted in after him.

The room was almost pitch black, and it took Raistlin’s own human eyes a moment to adjust to the familiar school kitchen, reeking of cabbage and burnt bread. Marn was snuffling under a pile of blankets on the cot in the corner.

Raistlin’s heart was pounding in his ears, but he couldn’t stop grinning. Excitement was flashing through him, and the sheer _audacity_ of what they were doing made him want to burst out laughing. He bit his lip and led the way out of the half open kitchen door, and into the schoolroom.

The windows were larger here, letting in bright Solinari moonlight. Raistlin led the way easily between the tall rows of desks, and sneered as he passed Theobald’s podium. Gods, for all he knew he was lucky to get schooling in the magic at all, surely the Conclave could do better than _this?_ Surely, at least for his sake, they could have found something better than this; this - soulless, spiritless place; this broken down, worthless teacher.

Dalamar must have noticed him staring at the desks- his old desk, in the corner, where the light had been best- and put his hand on his shoulder. “We deserved better,” he whispered.

Gods and Magic, but Raistlin loved him. He put his hand on Dalamar’s and squeezed. “And that is what we are about to get.” He smiled, and the moons glinted in Dalamar’s eyes when he smiled back.

Behind the schoolroom was the library; mostly empty shelves, with the occasional scroll copied by a student and kept in case Theobald ran out of tinder for the fireplace, or paper for the privy. Raistlin again led the way, through the rear door and down towards Theobald’s own quarters.

There Dalamar took over, kneeling down and pressing his ear to the door. Not that it was necessary; Raistlin could hear the snores from here. Dalamar nodded, and they moved to each side of the door. Raistlin’s questing fingers found the runes, cut deep and cunningly into the frame. Dalamar had his dagger out, and the wood sparked blue as the blade cut into the enchanted wood.

Raistlin didn’t have a dagger, but he smiled, and drew the spell in his mind for the third time that day. “ _Halilintar ular ke ast_.” A quick flare of black light, the crack of magic, and the runes vanished as the wood cracked, crumbling to the floor in little grey drifts.

The door glowed briefly, then faded, and the snores seemed louder now. Dalamar’s smile was half hidden in the shadows as he bowed to let Raistlin go first. He knelt down and slid a pick into the lock. It clicked after a few seconds, the simple tumblers rolling open.

This door was better than the one in the kitchen, and opened smoothly. The curtains were drawn and Raistlin blinked again and again until his eyes adjusted to the weak light, outlining the furniture in shades of grey. Theobald hadn’t made it to the bed, but was instead collapsed in his armchair by the cold fire. There was  an empty bottle of brandy on the table beside him and not so much as a spellbook in the whole room.

Dalamar prowled over to the man, and sneered at him. Raistlin could hardly blame him. Theobald had had everything Dalamar had ever longed for, fought for; and he had squandered it utterly. It would be pathetic if it wasn’t so repugnant.

Raistlin beckoned to him and pulled up the rug covering the floor. The trapdoor was cunningly set into the ground, and they would never have found it if Theobald hadn’t been foolish enough to show Raistlin himself.

Dalamar drew away from Theobald and knelt down beside Raistlin, his face shifting from disgust to eagerness. For a moment, Raistlin remembered the last time he had been here; when he had first pledged himself to the magic, for the magic. He remembered his terror on that day, the fear that his soul might prove to be as weak as his body. Worthless. Useless.

If he had been right, would Dalamar look at him as he looked on Theobald? In disgust and scorn?

No. Raistlin assured himself, even as his stomach lurched. No, because he would be dead. Nothing, without the magic. And better dead than Theobald’s pathetic, pitiful existence.

Probably he would secretly be relieved to find the spellbooks gone, Raistlin thought ruefully. It would spare him from the reminder of what could never be his.

Dalamar drew his dagger, and jammed it into one of the runes.

It let out a _bang_ that made them both jump, and a flash of white light speared through Raistlin’s eyes as he felt the spell wash over his mind, clawing hungrily. The ring on his finger blazed almost hot enough to burn, and the spell retreated. Raistlin shook his head, clearing his mind.

Theobald gave a snort at the light and jerked up in his chair. Dalamar gave Raistlin a panicked look but he was already moving, the magic ready on his tongue, in his throat, bright and brilliantly alive. Oh, how Raistlin wished he could step backwards in time to his past self here, in this place, and show that young boy what he would become.

The spell wove between his fingers, drawn out through his breath and blood and soul and the braided light of the moons. A flash of rose petals, flickering in the air. “ _Ast tasarak sinuralan kyrnawi.”_

Theobald snorted, and collapsed back into his chair, snoring even louder than before. Dalamar let out his breath. “Well done,” he whispered, “I must have set them off, I am sorry.”

Raistlin shrugged and pulled the trapdoor open, sliding inside.

The room was, if anything, even more dispirited than the last time Raistlin had seen it, seven years ago. The spellbooks were still there, but there were fewer scrolls than before, and the cage that had held the subjects of Theobald’s magical experiences, the small field mice, now held only one large, elderly rat, which had probably never seen a spell in its life.

“Quickly,” Dalamar breathed, “I will keep watch from here.”

Raistlin snatched up the three spellbooks, threw a quick glance at the remaining scrolls and took two that looked interesting. One of the non-magical books also caught his eye, an ancient tome on mythical beasts, and he stuffed it under his arm as well.

Dalamar nodded and led the way back up. Theobald was still dead to the world, caught in Raistlin’s spell. Raistlin checked the ground for any lost petals, but they had been consumed by the magic. They closed the trapdoor, replaced the rug, and closed the doors on the way out.

Once out of the schoolhouse they started to run. Dalamar had the scrolls and the book of beasts, and Raistlin held the spellbooks. The moons danced between the trees, as though rejoicing in the liberation of their tools from Theobald’s idiocy, and the air was sharp and cool in Raistlin’s throat. He started laughing before he realized what he was doing. High and wild and delighted, the dew-damp grass snatching at his robes as he ran.

And perhaps it was the magic of the night, or the sheer exhilaration, or because Raistlin had been stronger in the past few months than he had ever been before, but they made it most of the way back to the lake before he had to stop and catch his breath.

The shore was still deserted, Lunitari high and full, just below the empty hollow of Nuitari in the sky. Raistlin dug out the handful of candles he had tucked away for the evening, and lit them with a quick wave of magic. A faint golden glow, out of sight from everyone. Just the two of them, tucked away between the stones on the shore, under the moons.

The scrolls held one blazing treasure, a spell of flame, a cone of fire cast from the mage’s hands. Raistlin copied it very carefully, _Kair tangus miopiar_. The other was of only middling use, the ability to tell if something was enchanted. That went into his spellbook as well.

Dalamar was flicking through the spellbooks with increasing disgust. “I think if the Dark Son of my old spellbooks were to see these, they would set Theobald alight purely as a service to the magic.”

At least a third of the spells were copied badly enough even Raistlin could see they would never work. Several had been copied twice, and Raistlin had most of them in his spellbook already. There were a few small prizes, however. A spell that covered the ground in slick grease to make enemies lose their footing, a spell of invisibility and another of darkness, so complex Raistlin longed to try them, and a spell to conjure a bolt of lightning that he certainly wasn’t going to try. Not only was it complicated beyond belief, but Raistlin strongly suspected Theobald had tried to cast it at least once- the lightning that had struck Marn must have come from _somewhere_ , after all.

All the same, they copied it down carefully, every syllable; _ast kiranann kair gardurm sotharn, suh kali jalaran_. Raistlin saw Dalamar mouthing the words as he wrote them down. “How many months to memorise that?” Raistlin murmured, half to himself. “And to be able to recall it at the correct moment, in the middle of a battle-“

Dalamar nodded, lay down his quill. “Facing down an enemy,” he echoed, “Warriors charging at you and you have to hold it in your mind, and speak it in time.”

The sat in silence for a moment, looking down at the spell lying there in Theobald’s scribbled handwriting. A mountain for them to climb.

“One day.” Raistlin smiled.

Dalamar nodded, “When we are war mages.” He closed Theobald’s sorry spellbook. “But we will need more than this, I think.”

“There are mageware shops,” Raistlin said slowly, thoughtfully. “There is one in Haven. Although we may need to wait for Harvest Home, I doubt we would be able to afford much,” he plucked teasingly at Dalamar’s robes, turned the ring on his finger.

“Then, it is my turn to give you something.” Dalamar dug into his pouches, and drew out a small purse.

Raistlin’s eyes widened as he caught the purse. Goatskin, black and white. Theobald’s private stash.

He hesitated. Borrowing the spellbooks was one thing, but this was stealing, utterly and completely. “Theobald might overlook the books,” he warned, “Not this. He will not let this one go so easily, and we will be thrown out of town if they catch us.”

Dalamar took the purse back, opened it. “How much does he owe you?”

Raistlin paused, adding up the last few days- and the many days before that. “More than twenty steel.” He sighed, “But I doubt he would have so much.”

Dalamar picked out ten steel, and a single gleaming platinum piece, and handed it to Raistlin. “He has four more of these in there.” He said dryly.

“Give me another,” Raistlin hissed. The coin was almost impossibly light, was marked as minted in Palanthas. No doubt this was the much bemoaned pay from the Conclave that never seemed to arrive. “If we leave the rest there, it will seem as if he miscounted, or exaggerated for the guard.”

The moons were fading, the sky turning grey. “We should get to Flint’s house.” Raistlin murmured, closing the books of beasts. “We need to leave these and be away before anyone wakes up and sees us.”

“And then?” Dalamar stretched as he stood up, his neck cracking.

Raistlin yawned and got up, his eyes itching with weariness. “Home, and bed, and staying there for most of the day.”

A rough kiss against his cheek, Raistlin relaxed against Dalamar. A long night, but a good one. He smiled at the morning sky. He hoped the Gods of Magic were pleased with his little escapade in their name.

 

* * *

 

Caramon was still asleep when they got home. They slipped in silently, crept up to Raistlin’s small room, and were asleep almost before they hit the bed.

Dalamar drifted vaguely back to himself at a heavy tread on the steps, “Raist?”

Raistlin groaned and rolled over, facing the wall. Dalamar raised his head. His eyes itched with exhaustion. “Go away.” He snarled.

“It’s morning.” Caramon growled, “Raistlin needs to-“

“Go!” Raistlin lifted his head, spat away the trailing strands of his hair. “We’re sleeping, you fool. Go away.”

Caramon grumbled something inaudible, and stomped back down the stairs. Dalamar made an approving sound, and sank back down into the blankets. Raistlin slid back against him, warm and sweet. Dalamar smiled, and closed his eyes.

And was jerked back to himself some unknown time later. “Raistlin! Raistlin!”

Raistlin growled, but the voice was too high to be Caramon. Dalamar buried his head under the pillow; it was never a good time for kender. There was a bang on the door, and Raistlin sighed, getting up. “It won’t keep him out,” he said wearily.

Dalamar gritted his teeth, but heard the door click open and thump against the wall. “Raistlin! It’s Flint!”

Raistlin threw on his robes, and Dalamar allowed himself another precious moment in the bed before groaning and getting up. He followed Raistlin down and hovered at the foot of the stairs, in case the kender decided to try and go up to their room.

Thankfully, Tasslehoff seemed more occupied with scraping out the jam jar. Raistlin sighed, “What about Flint?”

“Oh yes!” The kender spluttered through a mouthful of strawberry jam. “Flint! It’s awful! He can’t stand up. He can’t lie down either, or sit down for that matter. He’s in extremely bad shape, and I’m really worried about him. Truly worried.”

Raistlin stifled a yawn, and took the spoon from the kender before it vanished into his pouches. Kender healed fast, more’s the pity. “Yes yes.” He rubbed his eyes. “What exactly happened? Dalamar, I think we could both do with some tea.”

Dalamar nodded, keeping an eye on the kender as he stoked up the fire under the kettle. “Does Otik make tarbean tea?”

“Gods, I wish.” Raistlin rubbed his eyes.

The kender chirped through the events of the morning, which Dalamar frankly didn’t really listen to. He handed Raistlin a mug of tea and downed half of his in a gulp. The world settled a little more around him.

Raistlin sighed and picked through his bottles and poultices. “Has he been troubled with back pain before?”

“Oh, yes, he said that his back has been hurting him ever since Caramon tried to drown him in the boat. His back and his left leg.”

“Boat?” Dalamar looked up curiously.

“Caramon tried to catch a fish with his hands.” Raistlin sipped his tea, “We all went into the lake. I was in bed for a week with a cold, and it is hardly surprising Flint had a defluxion of rheum after that. Although-“ he paused for a moment. Tasslehoff seemed delighted at the idea of rheum, whatever that was, but Raistlin was thoughtful, “That leg. The pain in the left leg might mean something more serious. I was going to send some oil of wintergreen home with you to rub into the afflicted area, but now I think I had better come take a look myself.”

“Is that wise?” Dalamar finished his tea with a gulp, “After last night?”

Raistlin rolled his eyes, “As though he would notice so quickly. This should not take long, regardless.”

“I hope not,” Dalamar stifled a yawn, “Let’s go then.”

He was glad he did. The dwarf was bent almost in two, so far down he was clutching his own ankles. Nevertheless, he roared furiously as Raistlin tried to get him to the bed, lashing out with a poker. Raistlin recoiled just in time and the poker smashed a row of boxes off a shelf instead. Dalamar winced as the fragile art inside smashed on impact.

“Here,” Dalamar pulled Raistlin backwards. The dwarf snarled, thrashing out again with his weapon. Dalamar waited until he was out of breath, panting and shuddering, then stepped closer and kicked the dwarf in his bad leg. He shrieked and collapsed like a house of cards, Dalamar knocked the poker under the table. “All yours.”

“Assuming there’s anything left after that.” Raistlin said dryly. Flint was howling like a stuck pig. “Help me get him on the bed. Tasslehoff, get some brandy from Otik’s”

Dalamar got hold of the dwarf’s hands before he found any more weapons, and got his nightshirt up so Raistlin could rub some of the oil on his back and leg. “You bastards.” Flint growled.

“Our parents were married.” Raistlin said tartly, digging his fingers in to a squawk of pain. “Now- pull his arms.”

Dalamar pulled, and with a rather hideous cry, the dwarf was lying flat on the bed. “I’m getting up,” he snarled weakly, “I need to get to Haven-“

“If you try, I doubt you’d get out of town,” Raistlin poured more oil on the dwarf’s back, rubbing it in. “Assuming you could walk at all- or even walk again, if you are this foolish.”

“Truly?” Dalamar cocked his head, interested; he had never heard of this.

“It’s the way the nerves run down the back.” Raistlin smiled, “The defluxion of rheum is an inflammation of the joints, but if it moves to the spine, it can pinch the nerves that run down from the brain.”

Dalamar noticed that Flint was now lying rather still.

“If the inflammation gets worse,” Raistlin continued, “It can cut the connections off entirely, and the limb in question will be quite dead. I believe the safest treatment is then to remove the body part entirely. It will not move again, and may start to fester and decay over time.”

The dwarf might as well be a statue, on the bed.

“At least...” There was a slight flush on Raistlin’s pale cheeks, which Dalamar considered entirely adorable. “That is what Meggin taught me. She had a patient who didn’t listen, and she demonstrated the correct treatment on his skeleton.”

Dalamar laughed, “I would like to meet her, she sounds an interesting woman.” He let go of Flint’s wrists; after that lecture, he doubted the dwarf would move should they set his house on fire.

“She is,” Raistlin smiled, “She’s been working with the Plainsmen since winter, but she should be back in a few months.”

“I look forward to it.” The stomp of footsteps coming closer cut off anything else he might say. At first, Dalamar thought it was the kender coming back, but a kender would be lighter on his feet.

_Oh Nuitari._ Dalamar closed his eyes, rubbed his face. They needed to be somewhere else.

“Where’s that idiotic shrimp?!” Theobald roared, “It stole my coin pouch! And my spellbooks! I demand you return-“ he pushed the door open.

“We are busy.” Raistlin scowled.

“What are you doing here!” Theobald’s face was blotched with rage. “Were you in on this?”

“On what?” Dalamar had to commend Raistlin on his acting skills. He looked every part the harassed and irritated doctor, interrupted in his work.

Theobald looked between him, and the dwarf, “Tricking the foolish again, _boy?_ ”

“Who are you calling foolish?” Flint twisted his head around and scowled.

“Where is my money pouch?” Theobald snapped, “And my spellbooks.” An afterthought.

“I have no idea.” Flint growled, “If the kender took them, I put them out in front. We’re busy in here.”

“I’m back!” Tasslehoff chirped up. “I got a meat pie no one wanted, so we can have breakfast-“ He broke off, looking up at Theobald. “Oh, hello.”

“You- little- _thief_!” Theobald breathed. “ _How dare you-“_

Dalamar sidled over to Raistlin, and took his arm firmly, pulling him towards the door as Theobald swelled like a bullfrog. Raistlin shook him off, frowning.“It’s more suspicious if we leave,” he hissed.

“I’m not a thief!” Tasslehoff straightened to his full height of three feet. “Flint! Raistlin! Tell him I’m not a thief!”

“I recommend mousetraps,” Dalamar said dryly, coming around to take the jug of brandy. “Where do you want this?” to Raistlin.

“Find a cup,” Raistlin said absently. He was poking the dwarf’s leg in quick probing jabs, checking the more painful places. “One dram per hour.”

“You _stole_ my coinpouch!” Theobald roared, “And my spellbooks! You snuck in last night-“

“I never!” Tasslehoff wailed, looking increasingly upset. “I was trying to find birds’ nests, I heard they sometimes take shiny things-“

“A likely story!”

The brandy calmed the dwarf down a little. “What are- ow! Ow! What are you doing?!”

“Checking to see if you can still feel your leg.” Raistlin prodded Flint’s ankle. “The pain is a good sign, if it starts to go numb, we might need to amputate.”

Flint made a weak choking sound, and stopped complaining.

“I should call the guards and have you _flogged_ -“

“I never!” Tasslehoff was almost in tears. “I didn’t! Flint-“

Flint let out a theatrical cry of pain to drown out the kender’s pleas. Dalamar poured himself a cup of the brandy, and got a murderous look from the dwarf for the theft.

“For the love of Lunitari!” Raistlin broke into the mayhem. “Do it outside! If the kender stole your things, Flint will have put them out in the morning.”

“Yes!” Tasslehoff brightened. “I _didn’t_ take them, so they won’t be there!”

“Humpf!” Theobald glowered at all of them. “We’ll see!” All the same, he gave Raistlin a somewhat suspicious look, which the young mage ignored magnificently.

Flint glowered at Dalamar, “Give me another,” he tried to wave at the brandy, jerked short, and groaned in pain.

“In an hour.” Raistlin snapped. “If you want to get drunk and take up round-dancing, you can do it in your own time.”

There was a cry of dismay from outside from Tasslehoff, and a roar from Theobald. Flint’s eyes narrowed. “Give me another.”

Dalamar glanced at Raistlin, who shrugged. He handed the dwarf the cup of brandy. It was downed in one go.

“You took twenty steel!”

“I never!”

Dalamar rubbed his face, Nuitari, to get some sleep-

Raistlin was also looking rather worn and frazzled. He stifled a yawn, “Dalamar, could you get Tanis here to take over? Then we can go back to bed.”

Going out into the melee outside to find Half-Elven wasn’t the best idea Dalamar had ever heard. He bit back a groan, and headed to the door.

“We’re going to the guards, you- you- bandit! _Thirty steel!_ ”

“I never!”

Theobald was juggling his spellbooks in one hand, and had Tasslehoff by the topknot with the other, trying to drag him away. Neither of them noticed Dalamar as he stepped outside.

Three spellbooks and his coin pouch, Dalamar risked a surreptitious glance down and saw Theobald had forgotten his tome and scrolls. He waited until Theobald had turned his back, then quickly stowed the scrolls in his pouches, and the tome under his new robes. No reason to leave them out for the dew and the mice.

“What’s going on!” Dalamar straightened quickly, feeling the book dig into his side. Tanis was approaching, staring at the scene.

“A thief!” Theobald crowed triumphantly, yanking Tasslehoff by his topknot. “Stole my spellbooks, and forty steel missing!”

“Really.” Tanis looked between the mage and Tasslehoff, and rather too penetratingly at Dalamar. Dalamar gave him the blankest look he could manage. Whatever Half-Elven suspected, he would never convince Theobald, who was now dragging the kender towards the guardhouse. Seeing the Half-elf about to follow, Dalamar cleared his throat-

-and was saved the trouble of explaining by a scream from Flint.

Tanis paled, “What is going on in there?”

“The dwarf has something wrong with his leg.” Dalamar smirked, “Raistlin is helping him.”

Another howl, and Tanis tore into the house. Dalamar made sure Theobald was gone, and retrieved the book from his robes. A book of monsters both real and gone, the illustration of a griffon was amusingly inaccurate, but it was well written. Theirs now. Dalamar tucked it under his arm, and went back inside the house.

Raistlin was explaining the situation to Tanis, tired and yawning. “He won’t be going anywhere tomorrow, or the day after, or any time in the near future. He must stay in bed until the pain goes away and he can walk freely. If he doesn’t, he could be crippled for life.”

“Are you sure?” Tanis looked sharply at Dalamar as he entered. “Flint’s complained of aches and pains as long as I’ve known him.”

Raistlin yawned again. “I have done what I can, follow the instructions or do not. We are going home.”

“And Tasslehoff-“

“He stole my spellbook last autumn and I found it in a thornbush.” Raistlin snapped, and Dalamar’s eyes narrowed. Nuitari, he _hated_ kender. “No doubt he found Theobald’s interesting.”

“He never steals coin,” Tanis said slowly, “Not from a pouch.”

“Theobald lied,” Raistlin shrugged, “Or the coins fell out when Tasslehoff took it. I really cannot care less. Please keep the dwarf from crippling himself.”

Flint made a hostile noise, Raistlin took Dalamar’s arm, and they walked out.

“Tanis suspects.” Dalamar murmured.

“And, again, I could not care less.” Raistlin rubbed his face. “Theobald was convinced, and he has no proof-“ he broke off, noticing the book under Dalamar’s arm. “Oh Gods.“ he groaned.

“I am not leaving them to be eaten by field mice. Theobald left it, we keep it.”

Raistlin looked as though he would have liked to argue, then groaned and closed his eyes. “Make sure he cannot find it.”

Dalamar smirked. Weary as he was, it had been a good morning.

 


	13. Harvest and Travels

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Raistlin and Dalamar leave for Haven.

 

It was the last week before Harvest Home, and the vallenwoods were starting to turn. Dalamar lay on his back, half hypnotized by the growing red blaze slowly spreading across the treetops. Red, orange, gold,yellow and fading green.

“Lavender,” Raistlin’s voice cut in, a little terse.

Dalamar stretched, and handed the small bag of herbs up to Raistlin. He took it with the tips of his fingers, and handed it to his customer. The coins chinked into his pouch. “We’re nearly out of rosehips,” Raistlin said, flicking through his little packets. “They’re in the roll on the left.”

Dalamar nodded, sitting cross-legged on the grass as he gathered the little buds and tied them up in muslin bags. This was their last chance to make some steel before leaving for Haven, and Solace’s Summer End market was the best opportunity they’d have.

Still- Dalamar felt his eyes draw up to the canopy of leaves, unable to keep from marveling at the beauty. “Do these have any use?”

Raistlin followed his gaze and smiled. “Not the leaves, but when the seeds come in they go beautifully in stews and cakes.”

Dalamar handed Raistlin the bags, and he laid them out on the blanket where the passers-by could see them. “We’re running low,” he informed him. “And I think people are going home.”

“I have plans for that.” Raistlin checked their pouch, and smiled. “We are doing well, and we’re not quite finished.”

There was something sweet and excited in his eyes; he had something planned and was really looking forward to it. Dalamar sat up and shifted to take over selling as Raistlin stood up. He stretched, stiff after sitting down for most of the morning, and reached into his pouches.

Dalamar watched curiously, was he about to cast something? Then Raistlin brought his hands together with a _crack_ and flash that made Dalamar jump- and drew the attention of the thinning crowd nearby.

Raistlin’s hands moved so quickly they were hard to follow, darting this way and that to draw out handkerchiefs and strings of glass beads and, here and there, the quick spark and shimmer of a cantrip, dancing around his head and pulling every eye to him.

Dalamar didn’t pay attention to the tricks, or even to the people coming over to gawp and occasionally even buy their little bundles of herbs. Raistlin’s face was alight with joy and concentration; for all that this wasn’t true magic, it was some sort of spell all the same. All those eyes on him, people staring in amazement and delight- it made Dalamar want to huddle back into the shadows of the trees, but he could see how Raistlin was drinking it in, thriving under the attention.

It was a short show, but it was enough to clear out all their herbs, and Raistlin managed to scrape up a few extra steel for his display. He sat down, face pink and flushed, hands smeared grey-green from the flashpowder. Dalamar pulled him into his arms, and hugged him. Raistlin _burned_ under his hands, damp with sweat and trembling slightly. “I haven’t done this in years,” he murmured. He glanced at their little bag of money, full almost to overflowing. “I should have told Theobald to jump in the lake years ago.”

Dalamar hugged him again. “We can throw a show together for Haven,” he nuzzled the side of Raistlin neck, “We will have enough to buy the entire shop.”

He got a soft, bright laugh, then Raistlin met his lips with a kiss. “I didn’t think you’d want to join in,” he said gently.

Dalamar shrugged, he was right, of course. “I can try anyway,” his smile wavered, felt brittle. “I have done worse for steel.”

“And what would that be?”

Dalamar turned, scowled. Caramon and Sturm, scowling at them. “Hardly any of your business.” He gently untangled himself from Raistlin and stood, securing their money pouch. If the kender was around, he didn’t want to take chances.

“Some black magic-“ Sturm spat.

“Oh, go to the Abyss!” Raistlin snarled at Sturm, Dalamar glanced at him, surprised at the venom. “Go and irritate someone else, both of you.” He stood and straightened his robes, starting to pack their things away.

“You’re going to Haven?” Caramon stared at Raistlin.

“Yes.” Raistlin rolled their blanket up. “For the Harvest Home Festival.”

“When are we going?” His eyes were pleading, like a kicked dog. “Sturm can come too, there might bandits on the road, goblins-“

Dalamar gave Raistlin an alarmed look, _no_. “That will not be necessary.” Raistlin said flatly. “We are quite capable of looking after ourselves.”

“Raist-“ A note of desperation, Caramon started forwards, and Raistlin took a step back, gathering the blanket to his chest. Dalamar stepped up, on hand on Raistlin’s shoulder. A little possessive mark he couldn’t quite resist. _Mine_.

“Come Caramon.” Sturm scowled at them, “We are not wanted here.”

Caramon’s eyes rested on Dalamar and _oh_ , but that one hated him. Cold fury, and an ugly, hungry jealousy that made Dalamar want to pull Raistlin as far away as he could. “Is that what _he_ told you to do?” The words were almost spat out.

Raistlin also seemed taken aback. “It was my idea.” His voice wavered uncertainly, then hardened. “You can do whatever you like, but we _will_ be leaving in two days. We will be gone for just over a week.”

Caramon didn’t seem to hear at first, chest heaving as he stared in disbelief between the two of them. Then he turned on his heel and stormed off. Sturm gave them one last, nasty look, and followed.

Raistlin looked after them, then turned away, shaking his head. “I do not know what he wants from me.” He said finally.

Dalamar looked after the two men, remembered the fury in Caramon’s eyes. “Whatever it is, do not let him have it.”

Raistlin’s shoulders hunched a little, turned away. “Perhaps we could leave early,” he murmured. “Spend the night tonight, and leave tomorrow when Caramon is out.”

“I will not argue.” Dalamar stretched, “And anything to keep Brightblade as far from us as possible.”

“And I daresay the mageware shop will be grateful for that, too.” Raistlin stroked his shoulder. “He does seem to hate you.”

“He hates both of us.” He bent down and picked up their bags. “I would welcome a few days away from them.”

Raistlin smiled, “Then we should pack.”

 

* * *

 

 

They had spent a little of their hard earned money on a bedroll. It was the best they could get from a travelling trader, oiled layers of leather at the base, wool for the top, covered in more oiled leather. And it was big enough for two, which had become rather important.

Raistlin carefully rolled up the bedroll, knotted the ties together and tucked it on top of his pack. It was heavier than his pouches had been when he had first set out for Qualinesti; food for four days, a change of clothes, two full waterskins, and some herbs and cuttings to trade. But then, it would be a shorter trip, and Haven would allow more comforts- perhaps they could even afford an inn, once there.

Caramon was still asleep when they left. Raistlin left a short note on his desk explaining where they had gone. With luck, it would only be found in the evening, and they would have a good head start should Caramon get it in his head to follow them. Then he checked their waterskins and food stocks, and made sure the delicate plants he was bringing to trade were safe and damp.

Then it was time to leave.

Raistlin couldn’t quite contain his excitement as they made their way down the deserted walkways, the sky barely graying above them. It hadn’t been like that before. When he had first left for Qualinesti Raistlin couldn’t remember feeling anything but dread, certain he would get sick or lost or be attacked by bandits.

But then, it was warm now, and had been dry for weeks. He would be travelling along busy roads with little worry of bandits as long as they were sensible and stayed along other traders. And he would not be alone.

Dalamar was also smiling, running his hand along the handrails, occasionally stroking over the beautiful leaves waving at them. “Are there vallenwood in Haven?”

“I do not believe so,” Raistlin said softly, not wanting the break to peace of the morning; even the birds were barely starting to sing. “We will be leaving them behind with Solace Vale, but there are trees in Haven.”

Dalamar nodded, “I look forward to seeing them. You know which way to go?”

Raistlin shrugs, “There is only one road to Haven, it would be difficult to miss.”

When he led the way around the lake, the sun was just cresting the mountains, and the mist was still rising off the water. As day settled into morning, he could see more people walking along the road- just peddlers and minor traders, those who could carry their goods with them, but as the day went on they were passed by carts and even the odd carriage. The road filled with chatter from the traders, the champ and clopping hooves of horses, the jingle of harnesses.

The two of them said little. They had slowly settled back into the companionable quiet they had enjoyed before, on the road to Solace. Calm and undemanding, settling warm and peaceful somewhere under Raistlin’s breastbone. Good. If this was what travel would be like, Raistlin was already looking forward to their longer journeys, in the future.

Then, late that afternoon, the peace within him shattered.

Their pace had slacked off after midday, the day had gotten hotter and Raistlin was finding it harder to keep going after such an early start. “Would you like to look for somewhere for the night?” Dalamar touched his shoulder, voice soft.

Raistlin nodded, stretched. His back ached, even though Dalamar was carrying most of the heavier items, and his legs felt stiff and sore after so much exertion. They were just reaching the mouth of Jakanth vale, the mountains rearing up on both sides. The road was narrow, and there was a crowd of people also looking to stop for the night just ahead of them.

“We can catch up with them,” Raistlin picked up his pace, refreshed at the thought of stopping soon. “They may know where we can find water, and it will be safer in a group.”

Dalamar hesitated a little, and pulled his old cloak closer around him, drawing up his hood. Raistlin took his hand, and led him forward. If anyone gave them trouble, they would face it together.

The people ahead were not looking for shelter for the night, nor were they about to pay Raistlin or Dalamar any attention; they were shouting at something blocking the road ahead. Suddenly, there was a scream that made them both stop, tensed to run. An uproar of outrage broke out.

Dalamar craned his neck to see. “What is it?” All Raistlin could see was a blur of heads.

“A column of priests ahead.” Dalamar didn’t look away, “It this typical, here?”

They sidled through the travelers, and Raistlin could see the priests now, hooded and cassocked in plain blue wool that must be sweltering in the later summer heat. It might explain why they were so slow, shuffling at a funeral pace in the middle of the road so no one could pass.

“I have never seen them before.” Raistlin shook his head, “But they may be, in Haven-“ he broke off.

Another cry, one of the travelers had collapsed on the side of the road, shuddering as though in a fit. No one was going to him. No one was even approaching the priests, those who worked up the nerve to come close quickly backed away. “Are they plague bearers?” Dalamar took his hand, ready to pull Raistlin away. Raistlin didn’t move. _No. Surely not-_

He started forwards as soon as the priests had passed the collapsed man. He was still shaking, one hand gripping his wrist in a white knuckle grip. When they came close Raistlin saw why, the man’s hand was bleeding from two small puncture marks. “They had snakes.” The man managed through chattering teeth.

That was- good. Judith had not had a snake, nor had she spoken of them. Perhaps she had been driven away from Haven too, and this new cult had come instead. “What did it look like?” Raistlin found the man’s waterskin and splashed water over the wound to wash out the poison.

“Hooded.” He was shaking harder now, Raistlin lifted the man’s hand over his head, away from his heart. “Long fangs, horn on- on its nose.”

“A sand viper,” Dalamar murmured, sitting down on his haunches beside Raistlin. “Although who in the Abyss would handle one without pulling its fangs first? They must be mad.”

“Don’t let them hear you say that,” a passing peddler remarked. “They don’t tolerate any disrespect. They don’t tolerate much of anything, if it comes to that.”

“Keep your hand up.” Raistlin instructed the man. “You may lose the hand, but if you lower it the venom may reach your heart.” He unbuttoned the man’s sleeve before the swelling started. “Is there water near here?”

The man nodded, “Just in the trees. A spring.”

Dalamar turned to the peddler, “They are in Haven?”

The woman paused, and gave Dalamar and Raistlin a scrutinizing look. “Are you going to Haven too?”

Raistlin felt something cold slip down into his stomach. He nodded, then forced his focus back to the stricken man. “Wait until nightfall, the worst should have passed. Then go and immerse your hand in water then, leave it there overnight.”

“I’d stay away, if I were you.” The peddler continued to Dalamar. “They’re not fond of mages either, or elves, for that matter.”

_Her son is a witch-_

_This half breed-_

Raistlin tried not to shiver, and was not sure if he had succeeded. He stood a little uncertainly, and a knot of fear and rage gnawed at itself in his stomach. “What is the name of their god?” His mouth felt too dry, strangely numb, as though he too had been bitten by the viper.

“Belzor, or some such thing.” Raistlin closed his eyes are the peddler’s dull words. Gods, it was her. Gods. “Well, good day to all of you, if that’s possible anymore.”

The snakebit man stood and wavered uncertainly a few steps away back over from the road, his hand held up high like a flagpole. It was already starting to swell. Raistlin looked after him, ignored Dalamar’s questioning look. He didn’t want to talk right now. Didn’t want to do anything that would remind him of that dreadful evening.

Dalamar gently took his hand and they followed the rest of the troop off the road and into the trees. Away from the priests who were even now continuing their inching progress east. Raistlin closed his eyes, unable to hold back the shivers.

They lost the peddler as they headed a little further into the woods. It was quieter there, and they found a hollow between the vallenwood roots, thick with long grass and fallen leaves. There was a small stream nearby, and they took turns to wash, then ate in silence. Dalamar lay out their bedroll, but sat rather than lying down, waiting for Raistlin to join him.

Raistlin sighed, and sat down. He didn’t want to talk, and then desperately wanted to. It felt like acid in his throat, poison on his tongue.

Dalamar let him gather himself, and spoke softly. “You knew the name of that God, Belzor. It hurt you. Was it that fanatic you told me of, that wanted to cast you out?”

Raistlin nodded, “The Widow Judith,” even the name tasted vile. “But it was not simply that.” He plucked up a blade of grass, and tore at it, scattering the tiny, feathery seeds inside. “She- ingratiated herself with my family. My mother in particular. My mother- she depended on her, it helped her stay with us, in this world.” He tossed the ruined blade aside, and picked up a fallen vallenwood leaf instead, staring bleakly at the beautiful veins mapping it. “Then my father died, and Judith turned on us and left and-“

“And there was no one to hold her here.” Dalamar took his hand.

Raistlin shook his head. “I tried, but-“ but he had been gone too long. Once, he could have brought her back. Once. Before he went to Theobald’s, and his mother had lost him too.

Dalamar pulled him in, and Raistlin rested his head on Dalamar’s shoulder. “She starved.” He finished. The words left him empty, and sick.

Dalamar nodded, rested his chin on Raistlin’s head. “What do you want to do?” He said, after a long pause.

 _Go home_. He did, very much. To rush back to Solace and wrap himself in the world he knew, comforting and safe. He didn’t say it. They needed to do this, and there were spells waiting for them in Haven. He hadn’t let Judith stop him from learning the magic before, and he would not start now. “Go on.” He said finally. “But we must be careful. From what the peddler said, we would be targets, and you even more so.”

“We may be able to buy clothes,” Dalamar’s voice reverberated through his skull. Raistlin closed his eyes. “I will wear my hood up, and we will not be putting on any kind of show.”

Raistlin smiled, “That would be foolish. You will be spared this time.”

Dalamar chuckled, his hands moved along Raistlin’s back, first stroking, then digging his nails through his robes and scratching gently. Raistlin sighed, and felt the clenched fear and anger in his stomach relax a little, replaced by warmth. Soft at first, then- as Dalamar’s hands found his belt, and began undoing it- growing sharper, hungrier.

Dalamar shifted, stretching out his legs, and Raistlin sat up, straddling him, bodies pressed together so close he could feel Dalamar’s cock pressing against his inner thigh, already half hard. He lifted his head for a kiss and oh, it was- a relief to feel this. To put aside the shadows of the past and just- be. Here. Now.

The dead leaves crinkled under the bedroll as they slid down to curl up together. The weight of him was comforting, heavy and warm and safe. The smell of the trees and grass around them made him smile, reminding him of the first time he had done this. How confused he had been, so completely lost but still determined to learn. Raistlin smiled, and kissed Dalamar harder, pushing him back and climbing on top of him.

Dalamar’s breath caught, just a brief stutter, but Raistlin noticed it. He paused and pulled back, giving Dalamar a moment. The Dark elf licked his lips, “Are you sure?” He breathed.

“Are you?” Raistlin shifted and pulled his robes over his head.

Dalamar paused, ran his nails gently over Raistlin’s ribs, making him shiver. “We can try.” He murmured.

Raistlin smiled, and kissed him again. Dalamar made quick work of his robes, arching up under Raistlin to slide them off. There was something determined about the motions of his hands, none of the teasing beauty Raistlin was used to. Gods, it still frightened him, even with Raistlin, even now. Raistlin shoved the hideous images of what it was Dalamar might fear, and focused on the warm body under his hands.

“This will be good.” He said firmly, that decisive tone to order the world. “I will make sure of it.”

Dalamar’s chest jerked in a half laugh, stroking Raistlin’s back. “I am sure I taught you well.”

“If you say, we will stop.” Raistlin continued, and bent down to kiss Dalamar again.

Dalamar kissed back, but it was only a brief touch before Raistlin broke it. He leant over and kissed Dalamar’s forehead, then his cheek. His eyes fluttered closed and Raistlin kissed each eye, then he shuddered as he brushed his lips over one ear, then the other.

“Raistlin-“ half breathed, shivering with pleasure.

“It this good?” He ran a finger over the rim of Dalamar’s ear, teasingly, and felt Dalamar suck in his breath at the contact. “I will remember that,” he purred.

He kissed the hollow under each ear, trailed down to lap at the base of his throat. The skin was so soft there, he nipped gently. Dalamar pressed up against him, trying to encourage him to bite. Raistlin dug his teeth in a little, then continued down.

He tracked kisses along Dalamar’s collarbones, over his chest. Pressed kisses and small nipping bites to each nipple until Dalamar was shuddering and arching up against him, almost throwing him off. Raistlin pushed him down gently, sliding back to sit on his legs. Dalamar was achingly aroused, struggling to rut up against him, his breath coming heavy and fast. His skin glistened with a sheen of sweat, a hint of salt as Raistlin kissed his taut stomach, and licked his lips.

He nipped and bit his way over his abdomen, Dalamar’s hand knotted into his hair, encouraging him further down, but Raistlin avoided his cock, kissing and licking over his hip bones, the tender inside of his thighs. The hand in his hair relaxed, stroked gently. Dalamar had his head thrown back, staring up at the waving branches above them. “I love you.” He breathed.

Raistlin smiled. “Good.” He sat as Dalamar’s feet, and exchanged kisses between each leg. The skin of his thighs was silk-smooth, the hair fine against his lips. The inside of his knees made Dalamar shiver all over, and Raistlin took his time there, tasting sweat and the sweet water they had washed in. “I love you too.” He let the words reverberate against the delicate skin.

Dalamar was half laughing, it sounded almost helpless, and there was a catch in his breath that made Raistlin pause. But Dalamar nudged his leg with his foot, encouraging him to continue.

Kisses brushed over each calf, tucked into the hollow of his ankles, the arch of each foot. One on each toe to finish off. Dalamar was lying quite still when he’d finished, his breath catching as his hands clenched on the surrounding grass, his legs spread in anticipation. “Better?” Raistlin breathed.

Dalamar nodded, and when Raistlin came forward to sit between his legs, Dalamar caught his hand and drew Raistlin’s fingers into his mouth, so eager Raistlin felt his teeth press into his knuckles. His cock had flagged a little, but the hot, hungry suction drew his attention back to it and it was his turn to shiver in pleasure.

Raistlin hesitated for a moment, then firmly shoved down the nervousness- he had been on the receiving end of this more than enough times to know how to do it properly. Dalamar had drawn his legs up already, hooking his ankles over Raistlin’s back to encourage him. Raistlin pulled his fingers free from Dalamar’s mouth with an obscene pop that was at once ridiculous and incredibly erotic. Dalamar grinned, and he couldn’t quite hold back a smile of his own, reaching down to press the first finger into Dalamar’s body.

Dalamar was very still for a moment, then Raistlin felt him forcibly relax, trying to make it easier. Two fingers and oh, he was so tight around him, so hot. Gods, what would it be like to have sex like this? Is this what Dalamar felt every time? No wonder he enjoyed it so much. Three fingers, Dalamar reached down and caught his wrist, “Like this,” he breathed; pulling Raistlin’s fingers almost out, then pushing them back in.

Raistlin moved his fingers in and out, first slowly, then faster. Dalamar arched his back, then gave a cry and- oh, there. Raistlin smiled. He knew this bit, oh yes. He moved his fingers inside Dalamar, searching for that- that spot there, inside, and was rewarded with another choked moan, Dalamar rocking back against him, his cock rock hard and leaking against his stomach. “Hurry-“ Dalamar gasped.

Okay, this would be the next step. Raistlin took a breath, he could do this. He found the vial of oil in his belt pouch and poured a little in his free hand, then rubbed it over his aching cock. Then he pulled his fingers out, lifted Dalamar’s legs up, and pushed in.

The pleasure was explosive, blazing and hot and tight and _so good_ Raistlin could barely breathe. He held still for a moment, struggling not to come at once, and Dalamar wrapped his arms around him. Pulled him close against him, and pressed a hard, desperate kiss against his hair. “Gods,” he choked, “Raistlin-”

“Yes.” Raistlin whispered, almost mindless with pleasure. _Gods_. He shifted, and felt Dalamar shudder under him, panting and hungry. Rocked into him, not pulling out, but moving inside, search for-

Dalamar’s body clenched around him, his back arched and _oh_ oh Gods- Raistlin moved faster, harder. Dalamar’s nails scratched over his back, caught in his hair and pulled. He groaned, throat flexing as he heaved in air. Raistlin found Dalamar’s cock with his hand, starting to stroke it in rhythm with his thrusts.

Dalamar didn’t last, he bucked up one more time, and orgasmed hot and wet in Raistlin’s hand, his body clenching almost intolerably around Raistlin, and dragging him over the edge as well. Raistlin pushed in again and again, blindly ravenous.

He managed not to fall on top of Dalamar, pulling out and rolling senselessly to curl up against Dalamar. His skin danced and crackled, as though coated with lightning, his cock softening and almost too sensitive to touch.

For a moment, they lay side by side, catching their breath. “Was that good?” Raistlin whispered, leaning over to kiss Dalamar’s cheek.

He tasted salt, tears. Raistlin hesitated, a kick of awful panic in his stomach-

But Dalamar smiled, turned his head and kissed him back, warm and sweet. “Wonderful.” He breathed, “Thank you.” There was a world of grateful truth in those two words.

There was nothing Raistlin could say. He pressed close, nuzzled Dalamar’s hair, and felt the warm weariness wash over them.


	14. Allies and Enemies

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Raistlin and Dalamar reach Haven, and see some old familiar faces, none of whom are welcome.

 

Thankfully, the priests had either walked all night, or had decided to take a shortcut. Raistlin and Dalamar spent the day quietly, walking through the Sentinel Peaks. They walked along the road, keeping it in sight but staying out of the way. Several times, they passed the remains of a bandit attack; ruined weapons, overturned wagons, the occasional human or goblin body rotting at the side of the road.

But perhaps the roads were too busy, or the bandits had taken their share and left contented. The day passed peacefully, and they spent another night in the shelter of the Shadow Canyon.

The vallenwoods were gone now, replaced by small copses of oaks and aspens, and growing orchards of apple and cherry trees. Raistlin glanced at Dalamar to see how he was enjoying this change. He seemed relaxed, looking up at interwoven branches and russet canopy above. A leaf slipped free in the breeze, drifting down to land in his hair.

Raistlin smiled, about to brush it off, then stopped. It glimmered red against Dalamar’s dark robes, and his thick, blue-black hair. Dalamar saw him looking and picked out the leaf himself. He smiled, and flicked it at Raistlin. “It would suit you better.”

The leaf fluttered to the ground, Raistlin was no longer paying it any attention. His eyes were locked on the long line of wagons heading into Haven. “Oh, by the Abyss,” he hissed. “How did they get here?”

Dalamar followed his gaze, and stiffened. Raistlin sighed; Flint’s wagon had managed to overtake them, probably during the night. The dwarf and kender would be trial enough, but he could see Caramon standing in the wagon, searching the crowd- probably for him.

Raistlin pulled his hood up, but they would still be disastrously visible. “Come. He pulled at Dalamar’s arm. “If we follow behind the wagons, we should stay out of sight until the gate-“

He stopped. Dalamar hadn’t moved. His face was paler that usual, one hand knotted into the front of his robes, the other clenched so hard Raistlin could feel the tendons standing stark against his arm. He was looking at the queue of carts, but not at Flint’s. His eyes were fixed on a blue covered wagon; emblazoned with the words _Belkin of Blodehelm_.

Blodehelm. Raistlin had seen enough of Tasslehoff’s maps to know that there was only one road from Haven to Blodehelm, and it led through Tarsis. “Come.” He pulled Dalamar off the road, behind a field hedge. He threw his cloak off, and started to strip off his robes.

That brought Dalamar back to himself if nothing could. He blinked, startled, “What-“

“Put these on,” Raistlin tossed the robes at him. “And give me yours, as long as Nuitari won’t be displeased?” He shivered, feeling the bite of autumn in the chill air.

Dalamar looked at the robes then shook himself, he gave Raistlin a small smile, “No, Nuitari understands these things. I followed him for years, wearing white robes. I can wear them one more time.” He pulled his robes off, and passed them to Raistlin.

Dalamar’s robes were too large at the shoulder and threatened to trail along the ground before Raistlin tightened his belt and bunched them at the waist. They felt _good_ though; still warm from Dalamar’s body and smelling all of him. Raistlin smiled, and tried not to laugh at Dalamar struggling with his clothes. The robes were far too small and ridiculously tight at the shoulder, and rode up almost above his boots. He took Raistlin’s grey cloak, and pulled the hood over his head.

“Now…” Raistlin bundled himself in Dalamar’s cloak. It was grey too, and large enough to hide his robes. “Shall we try again? Hopefully no one will recognize us.”

They waited until both wagons had passed, and slipped in with a small group of brightly dressed performers. The guards barely glanced at them, just nodding and waving them through. Good, Raistlin let out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding. Now, where had Theobald said the mageware shop was?

Dalamar’s hand snapped tight around his arm, a jolt of warning before the cry reached them. “Young masters!”

A young priest, in blue robes. Raistlin’s stomach lurched and he pulled Dalamar’s cloak around him, trying to cover the black robes as much as he could. Dalamar hunched, and kept his hood low enough to shadow his entire face.

“I would speak with you, young masters.” The man bowed, his face was broad and cheerful as Caramon’s, and he was wearing a warm smile. “I must ask, are you wielders of magic, my brothers?”

Raistlin felt Dalamar twitch beside him, irritated at being termed this fool’s _brother_. But Raistlin could see his eyes, could see how they glittered with low, lazy cunning. This one was cleverer than he seemed. “We are but novices,” Raistlin tried to imitate that smile, that bright guileless demeanor. “Travelling together before our Test.”

“Then praise be to Belzor, you may still have time, brothers.” Those crafty eyes widened in earnestness, but lost none of their glitter. “You are very young, brother. Are you aware of the evil in which you dabble—all unknowingly, I am sure?”

Evil. Raistlin could live as long as an elf and be glad never to heard that _useless_ word again. “Evil?” he said innocently. “No, sir. I have no intention of doing evil. What do you mean?”

The man grabbed Raistlin’s hand and it was all he could do not to flinch away. The man’s hand was clammy with sweat. “Come hear us outside the Temple of Belzor, my brothers. All will be explained. Once you understand that you are worshiping false gods, you will renounce them and their evil arts. You will strip off those foul robes and walk once more in the sunlight. Will you come, brothers?”

“Gladly!” Raistlin cried, shifting back to nudge Dalamar into a frantic nod. “What you say terrifies us, sir.”

“Come after the sun sets, brothers, to the temple at the heart of the city. Praise be to Belzor, he has gifted us with a great place of worship, the finest you will have seen. The greatest building in the city, one of the largest in this world!”

Raistlin struggled to keep his lip from curling. “It sounds miraculous, _brother_ -“ and only Dalamar knew what an insult _that_ was. “And the tales of your temple have indeed spread far. “Tell me, sir, is there a person connected with the temple whose name is Judith?”

“Why, yes, brother! She is our most holy priestess. It is she who imparts to us the will of Belzor. Do you know her?”

Raistlin forced a smile, but it might not have been convincing. He saw the priest’s openness slip a little. “We have heard of her.” Dalamar put in, keeping his voice so low it rasped. He put a hand on Raistlin’s shoulder, squeezing gently.

“It is sad that you are professed users of magic, brothers. Otherwise I could invite both of you inside the temple to witness the ceremony of the Miracle. Priestess Judith will be summoning Belzor to appear among us this very night. And she will be speaking to the Blessed of Belzor who have already passed over.”

“I would like to see this,” Raistlin’s voice wavered; it was an effort to push the words out. His hands clenched in Dalamar’s too-large robes.

“Alas, brother. Mages are not permitted to witness the Miracle. Forgive me for saying this, brother, but Belzor finds your evil ways offensive.”

Evil again. Well, Raistlin had no use for the word, but there were plenty of things he found offensive in Belzor. “A terrible loss.” He tried to keep the sarcasm out of his voice, and wasn’t sure he’d succeeded. “What a shame! Well, we must be moving on, _brother_. Thank you for your kind words.”

“The blessings of Belzor upon you, brothers!” He called after them.

“Good of him to warn us,” Dalamar said sardonically. “We will stay away from the center of town, and anyone wearing blue robes- Raistlin?”

“Hmm?” Raistlin looked down at his hands. “No, I’m sorry, I was just thinking-“

“You are not considering _going_?” Dalamar stopped, putting a hand on his shoulder.

Raistlin sighed, “I am- curious. They plan to speak with those who have passed beyond-“

“In Tarsis there are those who walk on fire, who speak to the clouds and receive answers, who walk into one mirror and out of another.” Dalamar snapped. “Nothing but trickery of hand. This Judith will call up a few old men in white sheets and the whole congregation will swear they saw ghosts.”

Raistlin nodded. “Judith.”

Dalamar’s eyes hardened, “Judith. And let her stay here, playing on the idiocies of the locals, and us stay _safe_.”

The last word trembled, pleading. Raistlin closed his eyes and rested his head on Dalamar’ shoulder. “I will go in disguise, he said finally, and when Dalamar straightened with an abortive snarl, he interrupted. “She killed my mother!”

That stopped whatever Dalamar was about to say. “Nuitari,” he hissed. “By the Abyss, Raistlin-“

“You do not have to come with me.”

“Oh, stuff that up your ass, along with my cock.” Raistlin snorted in surprise at the vulgarity. Dalamar smiled, “Of course I will come, but if that peddler was correct about them hating elves, I will need a considerable disguise.”

“We will find it.” Raistlin took his hand and- by the Gods and the magic, but they could take on Judith and her entire congregation like this. Together.

 

* * *

 

 

They changed back into their own robes behind a shed in Herbalist Street. The shop would be owned by a mage, and it would be best to make a good impression. Turning up wearing the wrong robes, completely the wrong size, would not help.

All the same, Dalamar kept his hood as far down as he could and his hand on Raistlin’s shoulder. The young mage was impatient to move, reckless in stepping into the street, but he let Dalamar keep him to the shadows, drawing him away from anyone on the street. _Be safe,_ some part of him begged. _It isn’t worth it, stay safe, with me._

The end of the street was dangerously close to the temple of Belzor. Dalamar could see it, a hulking greystone edifice, as imposing as it was ugly. Priests huddled around it like hens around a feeder, thankfully too far away to see them.

There was only one building where Raistlin indicated, a narrow building surrounding by a high stone wall. There was no sign, but the garden was a neat and beautiful as Raistlin’s own. Raistlin hesitated at the gate, biting his lip. “Perhaps the sign blew down?” he hazarded.

“Perhaps they thought better than to advertise.” Dalamar retorted, glaring balefully at the priests. “Even if it is closed, we may find something at the market.”

Raistlin paused another moment. Then, his face set in resolve, he marched up to the door, knocking firmly. Dalamar glanced up and down the street; a group of priests had broken off from the main set, and were coming down towards them.

He stalled for a moment, unsure if he should ignore them, or grab Raistlin and run. A furtive gasp from the door decided him. “Get your friend off the street!”

Raistlin darted back and pulled him in past the wall. “Out of sight,” The voice continued frantically, “Before they see you!”

They ducked down. Dalamar pulled Raistlin in, listening to the rhythmic _tramp tramp tramp_ of feet just beyond the gate. Dalamar lowered his head, inhaling the warm scent of Raistlin’s hair. So precious, that young mage, and so helpless the hands holding him.

“Quickly!” The voice called and the front door cracked open. “Get inside, both of you! Before they come back!”

Dalamar was up and moving before Raistlin had lifted his head, hauling him up the doorstep and through the front door.

“Moons above, you have some nerve!” The pale young man mopped his face as he slammed the door shut, and slid half a dozen bolts to secure it. “Both mages, and you a black robe to boot.” He lit a lamp and peered at Dalamar. “And an elf! By the magic, do you want to get yourselves murdered-“

“You have had trouble?” Raistlin straightened, trying to brush down his robes. “I am Raistlin, my partner is Dalamar.”

“I should say so!” The man barely came up to Dalamar’s chest, wore faded red robes and didn’t seem to have slept for a month. “I am Lemuel, and if you want anything ordered you’re out of luck. We’re closed, and I won’t be here much longer either.”

That much was clear. The shop was full of crates and barrels, the shelves and cases bare. “They are attacking you?” Dalamar glanced around.

“Not yet. But they’ve killed before. A lot of people are turning up dead with snake bites, even in their beds. I’m not planning to stay long enough for that.” He gave a heavy sigh. “I’m not looking to trade, I’ve got enough to worry about as it is.”

“We have steel,” Dalamar said quickly, then, remembering the garden, “And plants you may be interested in.”

“Black byrony.” Raistlin stepped in, putting down his pack and digging through it to pull out the carefully tended clippings.

“Black byrony?” Lemuel’s face brightened.

“I have had great success with it as a wound cleaner, and for healing scars and injuries.” Raistlin placed a twig gently in his hand. Then, after a pause, “What have they done to you?” It was strikingly gentle, soft in a way Dalamar had only heard directed at himself.

Lemuel didn’t react at first, but when Raistlin repeated himself and touched his hand, he sighed and told them. About going to the temple, and Judith, the priests driving away customers, and bringing in snakes. Dalamar could hardly blame him.

“I saw one of the women after the snakes had been at her.” Lemuel shuddered, “Dead in seconds and no one helped, no one did anything. She’d gone blue at the end, her arm black to the shoulder. After that- no thank you. I’m done, they win.”

He set down the candle so hard is nearly went out. In the dancing light, Dalamar could see Raistlin’s eyes glittering with outrage and determination-

And for a moment, he could see him like the woman in Lemuel’s account. Blue with cyanosis, arm rotting off, eyes glazed and dead. Dalamar shook his head, trying to dislodge the hideous image. _No._

Raistlin and Lemuel were still talking, discussing the shop, and Lemuel’s father. The young mage hadn’t even taken the Test, to Dalamar’s dismay. His father had been a good mage, but he was long gone. They had come all this way, risked all of this, for nothing.

Still, it meant they could leave at once. Dalamar would pick Raistlin up and carry him kicking and screaming out of the city if he had to and to the Abyss if anyone saw them.

“What kind of wizard was your father?” Raistlin continued, following Lemuel into the kitchen.

“A war wizard.” And Dalamar stifled a groan because- they couldn’t leave after that, could they? He could see how Raistlin’s eyes lit up in delight. He coaxed the conversation carefully back from plants to the old mage.

“He was considered one of the best,” Lemuel said wistfully, but with pride. “He was even invited by your people- I’m sorry, your former people-“ Dalamar waved him off, it was fine. “They invited him to fight the minotaurs and the Silvanesti- well, they are very snooty, aren’t they? Not that your friend is, I’m sorry-“

“It is fine.” Raistlin smiled.

It was more than fine, and when Lemuel explained that his father had left numerous spellbooks _here_ , Dalamar would have put up with giving a blow-by blow account of every building in Silvanesti. Lemuel was quite happy to usher them upstairs into the library in exchange for pestering Raistlin with questions about the black byrony. He pulled the door open and-

Dalamar gave a small groan, deep inside his throat.

_This_. This is what he had dreamed of. Oh, some of the books were missing, but Dalamar doubted they would have been able to read them anyway. There were maybe even a _dozen_ books here, faded and old, but meticulously kept. Raistlin rocked back on his heels, starstruck by this treasure.

Dalamar glanced out of the window. High, but not impossible, and there was a fair-sized bush below. They could pack these books away- books they could never afford anyway- and make a run for it. If they got as far as the fairgrounds, they could shake off pursuit, assuming Lemuel would even bother chasing after them-

“Absolutely not.” Raistlin scowled at him.

“We cannot possibly afford this!” Dalamar hissed, “Can we risk to leave-“

“We will come back.” Raistlin snapped, “Or find where he will go to and meet him there.” He broke off. Dalamar looked at him, and Raistlin turned away. “Yes, I know, but- we cannot. Can you really mean to steal from him?”

“He is hardly using these books.” Dalamar tried, but it was half hearted. But perhaps- if they were not being used- if Lemuel did not know the value of what he had-

Maybe not all the books, but Dalamar could bargain for at least half. He sighed, and sat down beside the desk. “Fine, let’s see what these books are about.”

Some unknown time later, there was a tap at the door. Dalamar scowled at the door “Go away!” at the same time Raistlin snapped, “What is it?”

They looked at each other, suddenly realizing they were not in their house. Oh by the Abyss, so much for getting a good deal-

But Lemuel simply answered meekly, “Excuse me for disturbing you,” he said gently, “But it’s getting late, and the priests are going inside their temple for the ceremony. I thought you might want- dinner, maybe?”

Dalamar barked out a laugh, Raistlin paled and nearly dropped his book. “Sir, please forgive my rudeness! I was so interested, this is so fascinating, I forgot that I was not in my own home-”

“That’s quite all right!” Lemuel poked his head in, and he had one of the nicest smiles Dalamar had seen in quite a while. He couldn’t help but smile back. Raistlin was right; it would have been unfair to steal from this man. “Think nothing of it. You sounded just like my father. Took me back in time. I was a boy again for a moment. Did you find anything of use?”

“Everything,” Dalamar said ruefully. “Your father left you a treasure.”

Raistlin nodded, waving a hand over to the little pile of books. The best books, but dear Nuitari, how could anyone rank these books? They were things of beauty. Were Dalamar to live to be five hundred years old, he would hoard these books jealously.

 “All these.” Raistlin sighed, “Did you know that there is an account of the minotaur battle for Silvanesti in here? And this is a description of how to use battle spells effectively, without endangering your own troops. We would offer to buy all them, but I know we do not have the means.”

“Oh, take them,” and it was so- _casual_. Like telling Raistlin to help himself to snacks, not spellbooks. Dalamar’s mouth dried and his eyes pricked with tears. _Gods_ , sweet, beloved Nuitari, thank you. This mage’s father had been a white robe, but let him and his son bear your blessing, _thank you_.

Raistlin choked, spluttered, “No, sir,” he said recovering. “That would be too much. I could never repay-” Dalamar covered his mouth before he could ruin this.

“I think your friend has different ideas.” Lemuel smiled, and Dalamar couldn’t help but smile back, helplessly. _Thank you._ Gods, what was it with this place, that gave such kindness? “If you don’t take them, I’ll have to move them, and I’m running out of crates.” There was something sad, in that smile, sad and gentle. “They’ll only go into an attic, to be eaten by mice. I would much rather they were put to good use. And I think it would please my father. He would have been proud of sons like you.”

It was probably the first time someone had told Dalamar anyone was proud of him. Certainly he couldn’t remember it. And by the look on Raistlin’s face, he wasn’t used to it either. He swallowed; eyes too bright. He blinked, the tears slipped free, and Dalamar kissed them away.

When Raistlin pressed his share of their funds into Lemuel’s hand, Dalamar didn’t even try to protest.

 

* * *

 

 

“I hope Lemuel does leave.” Dalamar managed, as they walked back in a daze. They would need to find a handcart to wheel all their books home. “He can come to Solace, and fight with you over your garden.”

Raistlin gave a weak laugh, “I would be glad of it, but he does not wish to leave. Most of his plants will not survive the journey.” He glanced back, and his eyes narrowed. “Keep an eye out for a shop selling clothes.”

Dalamar stifled a groan. “Raistlin-“

“No.” Raistlin snapped. “He gave us the books. He is being driven out by these fanatics.” _As they tried to drive me out_ was not spoken, “The least we can do is to see who these _bastards_ are.” Spat out, snarling.

Dalamar backed down. “Very well. One meeting, assuming we can find clothes.”

They did find clothes, to Dalamar’s private dismay. Raistlin wore a simple shirt and breeches, and tucked his hair under a misshapen hat. Dalamar stifled a laugh; he looked like a farmer’s son dressed in his father’s clothes.

For Dalamar, he picked a scarf to tie up his hair and hide his ears, and a shapeless grey robe. With his old cloak and his hood pulled up, he would look like a scholar, or some foreign wanderer. Raistlin smirked, “You look like an ancient widow.”

Oh well, that was fine too. Dalamar sighed and shrugged, “Shall I be mother?” he drawled.

Raistlin choked off a laugh. “No matter. Let’s head to the temple and see if these disguises work.”

Dalamar’s smile flickered. They paid, and he took Raistlin’s arm as they walked towards the temple. It was growing crowded now, the priests flocking outside, waving passers-by inside. Dalamar lowered his head, but the lighting was bad outside the temple, dully glowing braisers flickering and throwing long shadows. It made the ugly carvings on the uglier building seem strangely alive, and hid Dalamar’s face within the shadow of his hood.

The wind turned towards them, and the air grew heavy and sick with smoke. Dalamar pulled the scarf down to cover his face, and Raistlin held a handkerchief to his mouth, looking at Dalamar through streaming eyes. Gods, this was _poison_! Dalamar felt it lock in his throat, and his head span, the ground wavering from under his feet-

They stumbled on, out of the haze and into the comparably clear air of the temple. “What was that?” Dalamar choked, “It smelled like poppy seeds-“

“Those were poppy seeds,” Raistlin dragged in a breath, and doubled over, coughing harshly. “God, how do they get that much? They must be burning enough to kill an ox.”

It was having an effect on those coming into the temple. The previously solemn crowd was weaving drunkenly, hooting and laughing. There was a roar of amusement as someone who had clearly received more than his share missed the bench and feel flat on his backside. A spate of drunken singing broke out.

Dalamar tried to pull Raistlin back into the shadows of the temple, but he didn’t move. “We need to see this,” he hissed, pulling forwards.

“Wait-“ Dalamar pulled him back, “Love of Nuitari, Raistlin. Look!” He pointed at the front row.

Raistlin followed his hand, blinked against the dull light, and groaned. “By the Abyss, what are they doing here?”

“Enjoying the smoke, by the look of it.” Dalamar scowls. There was Caramon on the front bench, wavering back and forth drunkenly. And there was the knightling, right next to him. And there-

Kitiara. This time, when Dalamar pulled Raistlin into a back seat that was higher than the others, and allowed them a better view of the stage, Raistlin didn’t struggle. His jaw worked in frustration and he sat down, hands clasped together, glaring at the back of Caramon’s head.

Four braisers were lit in front of the stage, illuminating a huge statue of a snake. It was probably one of the worst pieces of work Dalamar had ever seen.

“Hardly elven carving.” Raistlin met his eyes and smiled.

 Dalamar smiled back, trying to imagine what House Mason would do if confronted with this thing. Scream and faint, most likely.

More priests came in, starting a low, monotonous chant. Flutes began to play, and baskets of snakes were brought it, swaying in time to the music.

“Is it the music? Raistlin murmured. “I know it is not magic-“

“No,” Dalamar shook his head. “Snakes cannot hear. It’s the movement of the flutes, you see? They are following the flutes. They believe it is another snake. Eventually they will back down, believing a larger snake has made it their territory.”

Raistlin nodded slowly, taking in the knowledge and storing it securely. Dalamar leaned in closer. “Is this Judith-“

Raistlin shook his head. “She is not here.” His lips thinned. “I would know her.”

The chanting went on, led by a high priest in a golden chain. It became irritating, then outright unpleasant. The air was stuffy and stank with the heat of hundreds of bodies, and there were faint hints of the drug from outside. Raistlin covered his face again and struggled to breathe evenly. Dalamar rubbed his back.

The chanting stopped suddenly and a woman stepped forward. Dalamar didn’t need to ask, because Raistlin had gone stiff and silent beside him. This was Judith, then. She was a middle-aged woman in blue robes, with stark pale skin and shadowed eyes, her grey-stripped hair pulled back so sharply from her face that the skin was pulled tight over the bones, giving her the aspect of a skull.

Raistlin’s hands were knotted in his lap, his teeth clenched. Dalamar took his hand and Raistlin gripped it, trembling with suppressed rage and pain. He hated this woman utterly, and here she was, being lauded by an entire down. Dalamar bared his teeth.

“Those supplicants who have been deemed acceptable may now come forward!” The High Priest called out.

A small gaggle of old women in mourning walked up to the stage, a broad-shouldered farmer, a frail young woman, and-

“Oh Gods no.” Raistlin groaned.

Caramon.

He was barely upright, waving left and right from the smoke. An acolyte stepped forward to steady him. Dalamar gave Raistlin an alarmed look. “Might she guess-“

Raistlin peered down at Judith. “I don’t think so,” he says finally, “We were only sixteen when she left, and she never knew Kitiara. But if that idiot tells her his name-“

“We leave,” Dalamar said flatly. “Right now. We stay with Lemuel long enough to take the books, and head back to Solace at once.”

Raistlin nodded stiffly, glaring at Caramon. “What is he playing at?”

But that came clear when each petitioner stepped forward. The old women mostly wanted to speak to their husbands. The farmer wanted Belzor to tell him where his father had buried his treasure. And Caramon-

“S’my brother.” The big man slurred. Raistlin slumped, sliding down until he’d almost disappeared under the seat in front of them. Dalamar covered his smile, torn between second-hand horror and amusement. “He’s with- bad people. Bad person. Need to know how to make it stop. Make him come home. S’not right, him being on his own.” The speech seemed to have been too much for the big man’s drug-addled mind, and he nearly fell over, staring vacantly at the priestess without seeing her.

“I’ll kill him.” Raistlin hissed from somewhere around Dalamar’s knees. “I will put him to sleep and beat his head in until some _sense_ falls out.”

“Come back up here.” Dalamar pulled him up. Raistlin was scarlet faced and fuming. Caramon lurched back to his seat, and the last petitioner came up. There was something dark and ugly in Judith’s gaze when the young girl choked out her request to speak to her dead daughter, something that suggested things were about to get even more unpleasant.

“We should leave,” Dalamar hissed, “We’ve seen enough-“

Raistlin raised his hand, forestalling him. An excited hiss passed through the hall as Judith stepped beside the statue, and the chanting began anew, louder than before. She raised her hands, then lowered them, the sweeping sleeves covering them completely. Her head lowered, but Dalamar could see her lips move. He leaned forwards, narrowing his eyes to see- _Bentuk berjalan ular_ -

“It’s a spell.” He whispered. “She is a mage.” He could barely believe it and his heart burned with rage at the sight.

“A mage hunting down and exiling fellow mages.” Raistlin spat. “No doubt afraid they would pierce her little secret.”

The shadow of the statue had come to life. The statue remained still, pitiful in comparison to its great, rearing double, slithering and writhing across the stage. Judith twisted and reared in response, her eyes rolling back, her voice coming low and growling. The magic tasted empty and foul, like stagnant water or the air in an abandoned cellar. The Gods of Magic had turned from her, leaving her with whatever magic she could snatch and pervert.

One by one, the petitioners stepped up to have their questions answered. The old women spoke to their husbands, and were told to give a portion of their money to the temple. The farmer was told to come back later to get his answer, and then it was Caramon’s turn, and Raistlin closed his eyes, humiliated.

“Belzor has heard your plea, and would not want any child of his to fall under the domination of elves. You will bring your brother to the temple, that he may cast his light upon him, and break the curse placed on him. Have him cast off his foul magic, and embrace the light of Belzor.”

Raistlin had gone pale, Gods, how much had Caramon told them? They would have to keep their robes packed away until they were out of Haven- which would hopefully be later tonight, if Dalamar had anything to do with it.

“That’s enough.” Raistlin snarled. “Gods, I’ll find that idiot, this has gone on too long. I’ve let it go on too long.”

Dalamar took his hand. “It’s not your fault.”

Raistlin’s eyes glittered, “I should have spoken up before, this is madness.”

It got worse, the young woman came up next, to be told her child was in torment for being half-blood. Judith whipped the crowd into a frenzy; screaming and spitting on the young woman. The shadow-snake vanished, the chanting faded, and acolytes pushed through the crowd with offering baskets.

They rose, hugging the walls in an attempt to get free before the throng. Caramon and the others were out of sight, but they could still see the young woman, weeping and begging the priests to help her child. They pushed her away, laughed at her. The crowd jeered.

“This is intolerable.” Raistlin was white faced, and before Dalamar could stop him, he’d shoved his way through the crowd. Dalamar pulled his hood down and stumbled after him. Gods, if Raistlin went for the priests, right here, with the crowd whipped and drugged to near madness-

But he went to the girl instead. She was on her knees in the mud outside of the temple, crying silently. Raistlin bent beside her, and for a moment, the fury faded from his face. He touched her shoulder gently and oh, Dalamar knew that look. Had seen it turned on him, so many times. A sweet kindness about him, for he could be so kind, his young lover.

He helped her up, the woman wavered, barely able to stand as the sobs shook her. “Belzor is a fraud, a sham,” Raistlin said softly. “Your child is at peace. She sleeps soundly, as though you had rocked her to sleep yourself.”

The girl started to cry again. “I did rock her. I held her, and at the end, she was at peace, as you have said. ‘I feel better now, Mama,’ she told me, and she closed her eyes.” She lowered her head. “I want to believe you! But how can I? What proof can you give me?”

“Come to the temple tomorrow night.” Raistlin met Dalamar’s eyes, daring him to argue. Dalamar sighed, and said nothing.

“Come back here?”

“You must,” said Raistlin firmly. “I will prove to you then that what I’ve told you is the truth.”

The woman straightened, rubbed her wet eyes. “I believe you, I trust you. I will come.” She gave Raistlin a last weak smile, and stumbled off into the night.

Raistlin lowered his head. Dalamar took his arm, and led him off away from the temple, the fawning congregation and the sneering priests. So much kindness in this world, and so much cruelty. Side by side, knotted together and impossible to separate. No wonder his people believed humans mad.

“I am not interested in arguing,” Raistlin said flatly. “I have a plan, and I know it is madness, but this- this cannot be allowed to continue.”

“I agree.” Dalamar said, and Raistlin stopped, looking up at him. Dalamar gave a rueful smile. “These people are already hunting and driving out mages. What do you think of me, to think I would suggest we just go home, now we know this Judith is a renegade? Do you think Nuitari would smile on me, if I allowed her to continue? I felt His gaze on me in the temple.”

“We could write to the Conclave.” Raistlin sighed, leaning against him in relief.

“And send it through Theobald?” Dalamar snorted. “When does that oaf go to the Conclave, assuming he would even agree to carry your note? No, I suspect you are right, we will have to deal with this.”

Raistlin shivered, “Please do not remind me.” He looked back at the temple, Judith was standing at the doors, baskets of money and produce heaped around her, men and women prostrate before her, and his face hardened, his teeth bared.

“But I will be with you,” Dalamar continued, “And should this fail, we will withdraw and- deal with Judith in other ways.”

Raistlin nodded slowly. “By the White Moon or the Black.” He agreed softly.

“The Black Moon or the White.” Dalamar agreed, and they smiled.


End file.
